A Dance With the Devil
by Peridot15
Summary: With the Second Olympian War over, vacation was a given, right? Wrong. Any break Nico di Angelo had planned was flushed down the proverbial toilet when he was unwillingly whisked away to a quest dealing with magic-wielding megalomaniacs. It was times like these when he wished he was patient.
1. Breaking and Entering

Nico cursed as he took in the large array of apartment buildings before him. In the dead of night, the buildings looked like something out of a horror movie in which the stupid girl walks into. Nico would know; Percy and Annabeth had made him watch lots, trying to scare him.

Suffice to say…it didn't work.

Nico felt the chilly night air sweep around him, embracing his lithe body as well as the tall, thin buildings. The lights inside were shut off, with only the occasional lamppost lighting up the street. But if Nico squinted, he could just make out the tiny numbers engraved in the shadowed brick.

Just because he is the son of Hades, the god of the Underworld, didn't mean he could see in the dark—rather he could sense his way through.

The numbers directly in front of him were ten, eleven, and oddly enough thirteen. Twelve was blotched out, not there at all. Nico's brows furrowed. Odd…

Soon, a nearby lamppost flickered, bringing him out of his trance.

He blinked up at the sight before him and cursed again. Whatever he was doing before, he knew it wasn't touring old apartment buildings. One minute he was just randomly walking somewhere and the next he was standing here with a faint feeling of nausea.

As if on cue, his stomach swirled uneasily, causing him to wince. He was glad he didn't eat anything previously; he had nothing to throw up. Sighing, he threw another glance at his surroundings.

Nothing was familiar.

Wherever he was, it wasn't New York. Hell, it wasn't even Los Angeles.

So then where the Hades was he?

He glared at the building. He didn't like this. Something bigger was going on and Nico was sure he wasn't going to like it. All he'd wanted to do was relax now that the Second Titan War was over.

Maybe fighting the occasional monster or two, but not with some kind of mind numbing pressure on his back. That was Percy's job. Nico just hoped it wasn't his now.

Nico looked back at the building for what seemed the tenth time. He couldn't stand out here anymore. He needed to find out where he was and how he got here, though he had a pretty good idea of the how. As soon as his muscles tensed to move forward, he felt it.

A feeling of absolute agony rippled through his body, freezing him for a few precious moments. Ghostly wails of loneliness and screams of anger invaded the silence. The screams tore through his eardrums, even as he tried to block it out.

And that wasn't all.

A scent, a peculiar scent that he only smelled in the Underworld was right there, flying into his nose. It was the scent of death, the scent of a soul. But this soul was shrouded in torment. Nico felt jagged edges throwing their claws at him, but failing.

He felt the soul hiss at him as if he were a dog chasing a cat.

Instantly he knew what it was—the torn piece of a tortured soul. And he knew he had to destroy it. Nothing as terrible as this deserved to live. Once Nico freed the soul of its attachment, it would go right down to the fields of Punishment and receive the justice it deserves.

To split a soul required murder and whoever split their soul like this was despicable. Nico felt deep disgust and loathing in his mind. People like them clogged up the underworld and gave Hades and his children migraines. Nico reluctantly reached toward the soul in his mind's eye, trying to sense what he was up against.

What he found caused his eyes to snap open, wide-eyed in shock. This wasn't the only piece split from the soul. There was another in that very building. Both of them were so close together it was laughable.

Determination igniting in his eyes, Nico took a step forward and another. He let his inner senses guide him to the detestable pieces of soul. His legs moved of their own accord as his mind sat back and watched the show. Soon, he had crossed the sidewalk and stopped at a brick wall.

It loomed high above him, but something felt off about it. It felt obscured—mired in secrets. A feeling wafted off of it into the air around Nico. That was when he realized it.

Magic.

It was definitely magic, only a lot more muddled than that of Hecate's children. It was less pure; it felt entangled.

Hades had told his son of wizards and witches once, but Nico hadn't really believed it, nor felt the need to look into it. Could his father have been telling him a true story?

Did Hecate really bless a group of mortals?

From what he felt here, it seemed to be plausible. Nico shrugged and resumed the control of his own body. If he _was_ dealing with a foolish mortal, er _wizard_, then he or she was trying to cheat death. There was no other reason for soul splitting other than to try for immortality, but that wasn't possible.

If anything, it just made lives more complicated.

He looked back at the wall. Something was behind here, hidden by magic. But what would it be? Nico was looking around for any hints when it hit him.

Twelve!

Twelve was missing from the apartment buildings! So it was the twelfth building that was hidden! Nico smirked slightly. These wizards—if Hecate really _did_ bless some mortals; he wasn't sure if he should believe that just yet—were so obvious. But he had to admit; some kind of supernatural force was shrouding the building.

He took a step back and immersed himself in the shadows. A burst of coldness caressed his body, causing him to shiver in pleasure. It wasn't cold air; it was the embrace of the shadows. He hurtled through a dark tunnel as electrifying speeds; it certainly felt like an exhilarating roller coaster ride.

But too soon it came to stop. The tunnel suddenly opened in a circular hole revealing a slightly less dark room. He landed on his feet as gracefully as a cat.

He quickly looked around and confirmed that it was indeed a building that was hidden. A door was behind him leading to other rooms. A huge, old, musty drawer sat to the right of Nico and a couple of dusty folding chairs were splayed lazily on the ground to his left.

To the naked eye, the building would look abandoned, but Nico knew better. There were various signs that people were in here. Some drawers were left open and the trail of dust on most of the floor was bleeped out in some footprint shaped holes.

Filing that information for later, he reached out for the ripped soul again…and fell to the floor in painful shock.

Screams—full, blown out screams—rang out in his head. His clutched his throbbing head. One of the ripped souls was here, in this very room. How lucky he was that he landed in this room of all rooms! A small grimace reached his lips as he slowly recovered and soothed his ringing ear drums.

After a few minutes, he stood back up and dusted himself.

The aura of the soul piece had now—thankfully—lowered considerably, clearing Nico's splitting headache. Nico walked toward the old drawer, where the split soul resided. His hand shot out and jerked the middle drawer out. He frowned. It didn't budge; it was stuck.

He tried again until he was bubbling with frustration. He almost caused the whole chest to fall over, but quickly caught himself. It was then that he realized he could just use his shadows to transport it out. A smirk of triumph and power usage later, he had the object filled with the split soul in his hand.

_Success._

It was a heavy gold locket featuring a serpentine _S_ inlaid in glittering green gems on its front. Nico spent no time pondering over what the _S_ meant; he narrowed his eyes and summoned his sword. A three foot long sword of Stygian Iron appeared in shadows in Nico's outstretched hand.

His fingers gripped the sword and the shadows left, receding back to the edges of the walls.

It would have been better perhaps if it was opened but this was the best Nico could do on short notice. It was time to send this abomination to where it deserved to be. He carefully placed the thing on the ground with the _S_ facing him. Gripping his sword with both hands, he plunged downward.

A bloodcurdling scream broke out as soon as the sword pierced the locket. Nico winced, his eardrums pounding, but pressed onward. His closed his eyes, gathering his power and ignoring the soul's tortuous cries. Soon, silence draped over the room and Nico opened his eyes, feeling rather drained.

He let go of his sword, letting it land on the ground with a loud metal clang. He toppled down after it, looking at his results. The locket was in shambles—completely ruined. It looked like it had struck by flames in the form of the sword, which it technically had.

Nico had called forth a tiny quantity of Hellfire, which was partially why he felt so weak at the moment. He put away his sword, sending it back to the shadows. His vision felt hazy and his ears were pounding so loudly he couldn't concentrate. He was lucky he even heard the footsteps resounding behind him.

He swiveled around slowly and blinked a few times before his vision came into focus. A group of people stared at him, obviously stunned. Their faces were obscured by the darkness and Nico's weakening vision didn't help. He blinked twice more, trying to keep from falling unconscious.

But the exhaustion circling in his body didn't help.

Suddenly, one of them shuffled forth and asked, "Who are you and how did you get in here?"

The figure held something that vaguely resembled a stick towards Nico. Other than that, Nico just managed to register that it was a gruff, male voice thick with suspicion, when the lull of blackness called to him. He automatically knew he wouldn't get to take care of the other torn soul today.

Nico di Angelo slumped to the floor, unconscious, in front of a group of people that could very well be a threat to him.

* * *

**AN:** I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED IT! =D PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review and let me know if I have any mistakes! =D

~Peridot15:)


	2. Interrogation

"_What are you doing, Massster?" _

_Nico stared open-mouthed at the large, thin snake coiled around a tall figure's legs. _

_It could talk! Since when could snakes talk? Did something happen when he was in the Lotus Casino after all? Wait, how was he here in the first place? Didn't he pass out in that building?_

_What was going on? _

_But then he realized. Disorientation swirled around within his head like he was next to a static-emitting radio. His eyes widened. He almost face palmed himself. He was in a demigod dream! _

"_Making usss immortal, Nagini."_

_Another voice jolted Nico out of his thoughts. This voice sounded cold and evil, a huge contradiction to the smooth lull of the snake's. 'Nagini' hissed, her red forked tongue briefly taking a lick of the air. _

_Nico diverted his attention from the green serpent to take a look at 'Master'. The man in question wore a long dark robe that cloaked his features. Nico could only see a sliver of dark hair slipping out past the hood. As he tried to angle himself to get a better view, the man looked up and narrowed his chilling maroon eyes. _

_He looked around the tiny area, seemingly unaware he had a visitor, taking out a long, thin stick. Nico was confused. What was he going do with a stick? Poke himself or possibly the snake? Nico smirked at the thought. _

_Although, he did remember the people that caught him in his weakest moment had the same sticks...Nico grimaced. He knew something bigger was going on. He just wished he knew what! _

_The man pointed the stick to himself, about to mutter something when a hiss interrupted him._

"_Massster?" _

_The stick paused in midair. _

_The man let out cold, heartless laughter saying, "You will be my sixth horcrux, Nagini."_

* * *

Nico woke up feeling extremely bewildered.

Who did he see? And more importantly, what is a horcux?

The man he saw was obviously a wizard. Nico highly doubted any self-respecting, non-believing mortal would carry around a stick. He sighed. His situation was getting more and more puzzling. He knew one of the gods, if not his father, sent him here wherever 'here' ends up being.

Coming down to it, Nico suspected either his father or Hecate. Hecate may be involved what with a group of mortals using her craft—albeit much less powerfully. And Hades could be involved simply because of the ripped souls.

He could have sent Nico on a self explanatory mission.

But if that happened then Nico wouldn't have fallen unconscious in front of a bunch of mortals. His father probably would have transported him back the same way he transported him here. But—oh wait. Nico scowled. There was still another ripped soul he had to take care of.

His day was getting better and better wasn't it?

* * *

"—I say we use veritaserum on the boy. We—"

"What? He's _just _a boy! Look at how thin he is! He _shouldn't_ be forced into an interrogation! The poor boy—"

"Molly, please. I am not saying we should act upon either course of action. But Alastor, veritaserum may be unnecessary."

Alastor scoffed. "Constant vigilance, Albus! How else are we going to get the guaranteed truth out of the boy—"

"Maybe we could just ask him! He's too young to be a Death Eater—"

"He could be using Polyjuice Potion—"

Albus Dumbledore had a splitting headache.

An emergency meeting had been called ever since the intruder had been found unconscious. He'd been moved to the kitchen table where charms had been placed upon him to notify Albus when he awoke.

They'd been residing on chairs in the drawing room—the very scene of the crime—for at least an hour, arguing over the course of action. Albus had seen the unconscious boy lying on the table in the kitchen. The boy was pale beyond belief yet still managing to retain his olive skin tone.

He had dark hair, in a similar style to Harry's messy hair actually. He seemed to be around fifteen with a tall, muscular build. Albus had yet to discover how he'd even gotten into Twelve Grimmauld Place. He couldn't have apparated, he shouldn't have even seen the old apartment!

The apartment was protected by the Fidelis Charm. Only Albus could have told the boy how to get in there which he had no recollection of doing. The boy was as much a stranger to him as he probably was to the boy.

But even more astonishing was that the drawer that was reportedly impenetrable had been cracked open by the intruder. The drawer showed no signs of stress which led Albus to believe it had been opened magically, but with no spell he knew. And the drawer hadn't been opened without a purpose.

Next to the boy, utterly ruined and destroyed, was a locket. Albus held it in his hands now, rubbing the charred surface. As he had inspected it, he had realized it for what it was. It was Slytherin's locket. Remnants of the emeralds still stained the surface and somehow retained the serpentine outline.

He had been quite perturbed that the boy would destroy a priceless heirloom such as this, knowingly or unknowingly he did not know. But he wanted to find out. There was also the question of _why_ the locket was in there in the first place and _how_ the boy knew of its existence.

A twinkle lit up in his eye; this was an interesting mystery, one he'd surely have fun solving.

"Albus! Are you hearing this? We need to decide before an all out war breaks out!" Minerva McGonagall whispered fiercely, her concern showing true.

"Yes, Minerva, I'm quite aware," he responded, dipping his head to her.

She stared incredulously at him.

"Then why don't you do something, Albus?" Albus smiled gently at her.

"We need to choose carefully," was his vague response.

Minerva kept staring at him, disbelieving. Albus chuckled and decided to humor his Deputy and stop the debate.

"Veritaserum is always one hundred percent effective!" Alastor Moody barked.

"And illegal…" someone muttered.

Albus chuckled again.

"Everyone, calm down. We need to decide; I think our guest has awakened."

Silence met his statement. They didn't think their argument had taken that long.

"Albus, what do you suppose we should do?" an older member in the back asked contemplatively.

Albus simply smiled and nodded respectfully at the man.

"I think we should go meet our young guest. We need to gain his trust so he'll willingly tell us how he breached our defenses."

Nods of approval wafted through the crowd. Even Alastor grudgingly approved.

"Alright then, what are we waiting for? Let's go meet the boy."

* * *

Ten minutes later, the majority of the Order had left for the nice warm comfort of their beds or the harsh reality of their jobs. Those few that stayed were the Weasleys', Sirius, Remus, Alastor Moody, and surprisingly enough Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

One would think they'd have business elsewhere, but this was deemed urgent enough for their presences.

They had all gathered in the kitchen, taking cautious steps toward the fully-awake boy studying each and every one of them from on top of the table with the calculating shrewdness of a Slytherin. But he seemed to stand up to them with the courageousness of a Gryffindor.

_Interesting_, Albus thought.

Their guest obviously had some hidden talents, but for now they needed to focuse on getting his basic information as well as how he got in here. Albus also wanted to know why he destroyed a priceless artifact.

He was staring at the boy, silently evaluating him when his blue eyes met the boy's solid black ones. Albus sobered as he realized the depth of those eyes. They had seen war, pain and death. Those eyes were too old for their body. It saddened Albus to see that the young had to endure this kind of pain so early in life.

He'd already seen it in Harry as well as some other kids, remnants of Voldemort's reign.

"Who are you?" the boy asked, calmly and quietly.

Albus raised his eyebrows. The boy had an American accent. That was interesting. Was he from America or was it acting? The Order members voiced nothing, their faces foretold of their shock; even Alastor stayed silent, waiting for Albus to reply.

"I am Albus Dumbledore. Might I ask your name?"

He was just waiting to see the spark of recognition ignite in the boy's face. But nothing happened. The boy paused, looking around the room with an unreadable expression.

"The rest of you?" he prompted.

Surprised, Albus let everyone else introduce themselves. The boy stared at each and every one with cold indifference. He didn't seem to recognize any of the names.

Maybe he had amnesia?

Even an American wizard had heard of the Headmaster of Hogwarts as well as the famous Auror Mad-eye Moody. Finally when all the introductions were made, the boy revealed his name.

"I'm Nico di Angelo," he bluntly stated.

Albus looked at the other occupants in the room, silently questioning. Did they recognize the name? The boy obviously didn't have amnesia; he was too sure for that. So perhaps Nico di Angelo wasn't a wizard? But no, a muggle couldn't bypass the Fidelis Charm.

A muggle couldn't open a drawer that wizards could not. A muggle could not destroy a priceless heirloom so expertly. It was impossible. Another moment of silence passed before Nico spoke again.

"Where am I?"

A gasp broke out from all the other wizards in witches in the room. Albus took this in calmly if not a little shocked. So the boy hadn't intentionally bypassed the Charm; curious.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, young man."

Albus couldn't give the name or else he'd be giving the intruder indefinite access. He needed to be cautious.

The boy looked peeved.

"Country? Continent? You can't give me that, old man?"

Albus smiled as the rest of the Order members grumbled about the boy's disrespect.

"You are in London, England, Mr. di Angelo. Where are you from?"

Nico studied him suspiciously.

"I'm from America."

Albus had thought as much. Accents can be very revealing.

"Would you mind telling us what you are doing here then, Nico? This is a very secure location and not many people could find it."

The Order members looked a bit off put by the information Albus was revealing. Did he really trust this intruder that much?

Nico snorted and replied, "I don't know."

Albus frowned at the answer. It didn't reveal much about why he destroyed an heirloom nor how he got in. But Albus couldn't help but feel the pull of excitement at the mystery. He reached into his robes and pulled out the damaged locket.

The Order members looked at it with interest.

Albus didn't pay them any attention. He looked expectantly at the boy. A flash of recognition crossed his face until he schooled his expression once again.

"Then why did you destroy this locket? We found it next to you after you fell unconscious."

Nico silently cursed, causing the Order members to mutter amongst themselves.

"He's guilty of something, Albus. We need to get the truth out of him."

Albus ignored Alastor's comment, still pinpointing his gaze on the boy who looked very annoyed with himself.

"Mr. di Angelo?" he prompted.

Nico snapped out of his thoughts and glared at Albus. The Order members and their leader stepped back, wary at the ferocity of the gaze.

"It's none of your business, Mr. Dumbledore. Now if you will allow me to leave—"

"Nonsense!" Alastor snapped, hobbling forward.

"Alastor!" Albus warned, trying to get the man to stop.

But he took no heed of the comment, continuing forward to the boy at a considerable speed. He reached into his robes and pulled out a tiny vial full of clear liquid—Albus's eyes widened as did Severus Snape's. He quickly reached for his wand, warning Alastor against his actions.

The members in the back realized what the Auror was about to do and ran forward with their wands in hands. But they didn't want to stun their ally. Nico just watched with a puzzled expression, his instincts screaming at him to back away.

But lack of knowledge can be one's demise. With the swiftness of a cobra, Alastor's hand lunged forward grabbing hold of Nico's mouth, holding it open. Nico, surprised, froze for a second until he saw the bottle of liquid heading for his exposed mouth.

Nico struggled to get out of the man's grip but was too weak from his previous excursion. The Order members froze in horror as the bottle was unwillingly administered to Nico. Silence—terrible, morbid silence—reigned as the contents of the bottle forced their way into Nico's mouth.

Nico tried to spit it out but Alastor growled, "Swallow!"

He proceeded to clamp the boy's mouth shut and hold his head up towards the ceiling.

Eventually they heard the dramatic gulp of the swallow from the unfortunate boy. Pleased, Alastor let go of the boy. But before he could ask any questions, Albus began to reprimand the paranoid wizard.

"Alastor! What were you thinking? You know how dangerous the truth serum can be—"

"We need answers, Albus. These are suspicious times. You know that as well as I do."

"But still, Mad-eye! You didn't have to pour anything down the poor boy's throat! What if he wanted to keep something traumatizing to himself? You have no sense of morals!"

"Molly, that's enough!" Albus roared, pissed beyond belief.

Silence descended upon the group, everyone shocked at how the old, kind Headmaster lost his temper. It was only broken by the coughing of one truth serum administered boy.

"What did you do to me?" Nico asked, coughing repeatedly.

No one spoke, too afraid that they would be on the receiving end of Albus's rage. But then Alastor seemed to snap out of his trance.

"Who are you?" he barked, looming over Nico menacingly.

"Alastor! You may not—"

"Albus, it's already been administered. We might as well press it to our advantage," was the voice of reason through one Severus Snape.

Albus looked up at him before nodding once, though very reluctantly. He didn't like the thought that the child before them may be subjected to invasion of privacy. As Albus looked at Nico, the boy seemed to be red and clammy from trying to keep his mouth shut.

Albus was inwardly impressed that he managed to hold out this long.

"It's alright, Mr. di Angelo. We won't make you answer anything you don't want to. But would you please cooperate?"

It was the only thing that Albus could do now that Alastor had done this. He might have effectively ruined their one chance to gain the boy's trust. Nico glared threateningly at them, but nodded jerkily. He still seemed to be trying to resist Alastor's question.

With a sigh, Albus repeated, "What is your name?"

"Nico di Angelo," was the instantaneous reply.

Albus observed Nico's expression as it began to realize the true power of the truth serum. Fear pooled in his dark eyes. Albus felt wrong by doing this—invading Nico's privacy. But what was done was done.

"Where are you from?"

They had already procured this information, but it would be reassuring to have it revealed under the truth serum.

"The United States of America."

Albus was pleased. Nico had been telling the truth so far.

"How did you find this place?"

Nico visibly bristled, glowering at the people in the room.

"I was somehow transported right outside of this place."

Nico looked sour at the revelation. The Order members looked on with interest. Albus was intrigued. But Alastor was a little less accepting.

"Are you a wizard?" he growled, throwing the Statute of Secrecy out the window.

"Alastor!"

"Moody!"

"Of course he's a wizard, you dolt! How else would he have gotten in—"

"No."

A stunned silence fell on the group. They looked at the strange boy with utter shock and astonishment. If he wasn't a wizard, then how did he get in? Even Albus was at a loss for words. Nico bubbled with rage inside, cursing the truth serum as well as the paranoid idiot that gave it to him.

If he didn't have this truth potion making him tell the real honest truth then he could have made something up! An elaborate hoax while trying to figure out what the heck was going on!

"Then how did you get in?" Sirius asked, breaking everyone out of their trance.

Nico stayed silent for a while. His scowled in pain as he attempted to fight off the veritaserum. A few minutes passed as Nico became more and more sickly. His cheeks were red with strain and his limbs seemed to be fidgeting in random spasms.

At last, he collapsed back onto the oval table, unconscious once more.

* * *

AN: I hope you liked it! I revised this chapter so many times, trying to get it right. I hope I did! =D So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! AND I'll bust my hump to write another chapter. (That sounded so cheesy. I'm not even sure if I said it right.) Please notify me if you find any mistakes, too. XD

~Peridot15


	3. The Escape Part 1

Nico woke with startling clarity.

His raven eyes blinked with surprise as he realized he felt _good_. His mind was clear and his body seemed to be flexible enough to bend back into a ball. Foregoing the need to stretch, he stood up and examined his surroundings.

He was no longer in what he assumed to be the kitchen. He was in a bedroom. What he was previously laying on was a soft, rectangular mattress, only inches above the ground by four metal pegs.

Two other identical beds—empty and made up—were across from him. The dark, windowless walls surrounded him on all fours with only a small rectangular door for the entrance as well as the exit. Despite the unfamiliar atmosphere, he felt rather at home.

Shadowy darkness was his favored time of the day.

He took a step forward and winced at the loud creaking noise created by the wood. The wood was obviously old, just like everything else in the room. He frowned, examining the dark surface. Testing the waters, he took a step forward, then another.

Pleased that the wood no longer creaked, he walked to the door at a regular pace. He needed to get rid of the piece of ripped soul and be on his way. He didn't want anything to do with these insane wizards.

A thought striking him, he paused slightly leaving his foot hovering over the floor. He reached out with his awareness, looking for the ripped soul. He needed to know where his target was after all. Alarmed when he felt nothing, he extended his reach.

His heart beat raced as he thought that he might have been wrong the first time. But that wouldn't have happened right? A feeling was a feeling. Nico couldn't imagine a feeling of pain as real as that was.

His qualms went down slightly as he felt a sliver of agony wash over his body. But it was very weak. Maybe the amount of ripped soul wasn't large enough to make an impact?

But no, one size fit all.

No matter how much of ripped soul was in an object, the same amount of pain was radiated every time. So why was this so much weaker? Were his powers not working right? Troubled, he reached for the door and carelessly yanked it open.

He needed to find that piece fast if only to stroke his pride. He been practicing with his powers and getting stronger ever since after the War. His powers rivaled Percy's now, even with his cousin's Achilles' Curse. So they couldn't just stop working!

Ignoring the loud creak that sounded from the old wooden door, he hurriedly stepped out of the room.

But his advance was met with trouble. Cold fury erupted in Nico when he realized who the perpetrator standing outside his door was. It was that man that poured that stupid truth potion down Nico's throat without his consent!

The guy, standing in front of the shriveled wall, glowered at Nico, but he was not daunted. He and his father could do far worse.

But looking at him, Nico saw the infuriating man could have been a pirate. He had a wooden leg in place of his lower leg and a fake electric-blue eye that whizzed independently from the dark one given to him at birth.

His stout body seemed to have been roughly carved out of wood by an inexperienced carver. Proving that was a chunk missing from his nose on a face crowned by a mop of grey-grizzled hair. If he had an eye patch over the missing eye and said 'Argh!' occasionally, he would have fit the bill.

"What are you doing, boy?" the man growled, his fingers enclosing around and wooden staff as tall as he was.

Nico was nonplussed.

He had some other business to attend to and while he may be angry at this wizard, some things came before revenge. So he tried to move around the wizard, but the man wouldn't allow it.

"You're not going anywhere. Now go back in there before I stun you."

Nico raised his eyebrows, a hint of amusement playing on his face. Oh really? As Nico stood there stubbornly, a maniacal gleam stirred in the man's eye.

But before he could so much as raise his staff, Nico was already barreling over him in a graceful flip. Yes, he'd taken lessons from Thalia believe it or not. He landed on his feet with naught a sound and stole a quick look over his shoulder.

The man was stunned temporarily, but he was quickly moving out of it.

It was now or never.

Nico dashed down the deserted hallway, past the old musty doors leading into other rooms. Old antiques cluttered the ground near the edges of the wall and Nico had to focus more than he'd like on jumping over them. As he ran, he searched for that faint feeling of pain.

Once he grasped at it, he started on pinpointing it, jumping over an umbrella in the way. But soon he realized it was coming from behind him. He screeched to a halt, his shoe soles digging into the old wooden floor.

Cursing, he turned around and doubled back, once again jumping over the umbrella lying innocently in the narrow hallway.

He heard the man hobbling somewhere in front of him and knew he had to act fast. Following the trail, he threw open the door to the right and quickly stepped into the room. The door slammed loudly against the wall, no doubt attracting the pirate man.

Nico cursed his own stupidity, but kept looking for the source. What he found disappointed him greatly. There were three beds in the medium sized bedroom, but only two were filled. They each framed the walls, once again windowless.

The first occupant was snoring loudly on his or her side, shuffling under the covers. The other occupant seemed to have on earmuffs and was sleeping snugly on the other side of the room. But neither of them had pieces of ripped soul in them.

There were faint traces of it on them, though—remnants of their contact with the infected person.

Nico's eyes widened and he cursed worse than a sailor. He should have known; that was why the feeling was weaker than it was supposed to be!

The feeling was just amplified traces—evidence that the two people in the room spent a huge amount of time with the infected person.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

And what was worse was that he heard the man scrambling not two yards away in the hallway. He had probably a few seconds before the man located him.

His mood extremely sour, he called to the shadows and grimaced as he shadow travelled out of the apartment building. Not even the cold embrace tweaked his mood.

This was only the beginning to a terrible day.

* * *

"_Where is my son?"_ Hades roared, his face twisting in unbridled rage.

The skeletal servants could do nothing but shiver in terror, for they had no idea where the young lord could be. Hades stomped about in his throne room, annoyed beyond belief.

He had been trying to get into contact with Nico for a good half of the day, but every try was to no avail. He tried Iris Messaging the boy, checking graveyards, that demigod camp, everything!

But nothing was happening.

In furious fit of rage, he threw a ball of hellfire at the ghosts huddled in the corner. They scampered from the spot in terror as the hellfire shot sizzled through the palace walls. That would have taken a good chunk out of their essence.

With a grunt, Hades snapped his fingers and sent the shadows to fix the wall.

But that did nothing to fix his other problem. If anything happened to the boy, Hades would take care of the offenders himself. His anger could rival Zeus' at the moment. He sat down on his throne, trying to cool off.

He was better than this; he shouldn't have lost his temper so easily!

But the boy was all he had left of Maria…That and he'd come to like Nico, to care for him more than he first had. Hades sighed. This called for desperate measures.

He had to summon _them_ if he wanted to find his son. He looked unnervingly at the two quavering skeletal servants still standing on the opposite side of the room.

"Summon the κηδεμόνες ψυχή!"

* * *

"The boy is more than he looks, Albus! He has prime physical condition, something that wizards need to start considering."

Albus frowned, but was more intrigued than he let on. So the boy did have some talents if was able to get away from Alastor nonetheless _flip_ over Alastor. But this was grave news.

Somehow, the boy had escaped.

They still didn't know enough about him. All they knew was his name, place of origin, and that he wasn't a wizard. It was most troubling that a muggle got through their elite defense not once but _twice_.

Most troubling indeed. They need to keep an eye on that boy, figure out how security was breached, but that would be impossible if he wasn't here.

"We need to assemble the Guard and send out a search party for the boy. As a muggle, he couldn't have gotten far."

* * *

Nico had landed somewhere in a town. The shadows transported him to a dark alley when he gave no instructions—an alley inundated with rats and mice feasting on trash and old musty bits of food.

Nico made his way out immediately. He had plans on finding out just where he was. The old man had told him London, England but he wasn't so sure to trust what he said or not. And the pirate man did nothing to gain his trust—just the opposite in fact.

When he emerged from the alley, he saw crowds of people dressed in suits and skirts running along the sidewalk. Some were strolling steadily, others rushing through the throng. He lost count of how many suitcases he saw but he could count the number of buildings.

Some buildings were skyscrapers, though nothing compared to the Empire State Building in New York. The grey tinted windows reflected the sun's early morning shine on each other.

Stores cramped beside the tall buildings were shadowed by their counterparts, explaining why there were so few of them. Nico looked around the crowd once again and, seeing an opening, strolled through. He weaved his way through the crowd, biding his time.

He had no rush to get anywhere, only to get information. Pretty soon—walking next to a tall, black skyscraper—he saw a newspaper stand. His interest piqued, he wandered over to the miniature cart.

Piles of newspapers were stacked neatly side by side on the table but no one was supervising the stand. Nico stopped in front of it and squinted to read the headlines. But his dyslexia chose to step in at that moment.

The words floated off the page, rearranging themselves in indecipherable gibberish. It took him a good five minutes just to read one word. By then, the crowd was pushing and shoving at his back from the sidewalk, stunting his progress even more.

Vexed, he tried to focus even more, gritting his teeth. He hunched over the newspaper, bringing it an inch or two away from his eyes. Finally after another five minutes, he was able to read the whole article.

He read that the old man was indeed telling the truth. He was in London, England. Nico was about to walk away from the infuriating paper when a group of numbers caught his eye. He gaped, his eyes slightly bulging in surprise.

How was that possible? No wonder his father hadn't sent him anything to go on yet! He couldn't! Hades didn't send Nico here. Someone else did.

Because Nico was pretty sure that in the world he came from, it wasn't 1995.

He sighed.

Everything has just become complicated for one Nico di Angelo.

* * *

Hades watched the black cloaked figures depart tentatively.

He was doubtful that those creatures would fail him. They could even travel through space and time—with permission of the gods, of course. A golden shimmer snapped Hades out of his train of thought. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously and turned to see what it was.

As the light faded, a woman stepped towards him. Long silky raven locks billowed down her straight, defiant back. An emerald dress hugged her fine figure, the same striking color as her beautiful eyes.

She walked gracefully to his throne and stopped right before his feet, giving him a respectful nod of acknowledgement. Hades reciprocated the gesture, his eyes examining the unannounced goddess.

"Hades," she greeted in a lovely, singsong voice.

"Hecate," he replied, waiting for her to get to her point.

Hecate didn't come down her as often as the legends foretold, but she was granted free passage to the Underworld centuries ago nonetheless.

"I understand you are looking for your son."

Hades eyes flashed and he leaned forward. His mood took a turn for the worse as suspicion clouded his mind. What did she know about that? He didn't let anyone know about that!

He didn't say anything. He glared at her slightly, bating her to continue. And continue she did.

"I have the answers you seek, though you may not like them."

Hades narrowed his eyes. So she did have something to do with Nico's disappearance. The shadows around him slowly came to life, one by one, echoing his emotions.

"Where is Nico?" Hades growled, barely keeping his temper in check.

Hecate looked at him calmly and replied, "I have sent him back in time to change a few things in my pet world as you so _fondly_ call it. I did not like the ending, so it shall be changed."

Cold fury was all Hades could register before his shadows erupted forth, attacking the source of his anger. But, as if predicting his behavior, Hecate erected a tight glowing shield around herself, allowing the shadows to bounce harmlessly off.

Hades stood up abruptly, his fists clenched. It took all of his self control not to blow the goddess of magic out of the Underworld.

"You have _no right_ to use my son—_my son—_for your _puppeteer games_!" Hades snarled.

Force reverberated behind his words, causing his fragile palace windows to shatter unceremoniously. Hecate flinched, a brief expression of fear flashing across her face before she schooled her features once again.

"I do have a reason," she stated coldly, glaring at Hades. Hades was unaffected as usual; rather the glare riled him up even further.

"What is your _reason_ then?" Hades spat, just managing not to harm the goddess.

Hecate stared right into Hades' face and smiled cruelly.

"It will reverse some unwanted effects in both our world and mine."

* * *

"How many are you taking with you, Alastor?" Albus asked calmly, staring at the shorter man.

Alastor grinned maniacally and replied, "Seven."

Albus raised his eyebrows but he wasn't surprised. Alastor was a strange and daring fellow. He took risks and relied on himself as well as his allies. That was why he was one of the greatest Aurors that Albus had ever known.

"And how long will you estimate it will take?" the Headmaster of Hogwarts questioned once again.

He had other duties to attend to tonight. He could not lead the Order tonight. None of the Hogwarts professors would be in Headquarters tonight. Lesson plans had to be made. But the most important reason was the matter of choosing a defense teacher.

Albus knows that Cornelius may try to interfere, which was why they needed to pick and choose carefully as well as quickly. It was only a matter of time before the Minister tried to stick a spy in Hogwarts.

As much fun as that would be, Albus did not like how large the chance of that happening was. Cornelius was not in his right mind at the moment.

"It may take an hour or two or a couple of days. It really depends on whether the boy can hide himself and hide himself well."

Albus nodded, considering.

"Very well. Gather the search party and begin immediately. There isn't much daylight left, Alastor. Remember that."

* * *

**AN**: HI EVERYONE! SUMMER IS HERE AND EXAM TIME IS OVER! I'm so excited! So anyway I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. There will be a part two shortly. XD So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! And also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL OF YOU WHO REVIEWED LAST TIME! YOU ARE SPECTACULAR! I never expected that many reviews! So please review and I'll update next time!

~Peridot15:)


	4. The Escape Part 2

It was hours later, in the mid afternoon, when Nico was over his shock. Someone (most likely Hecate) had sent him back in time to do something and it may or may not have to do with the ripped souls.

The least the perpetrator could do was explain him or herself. Nico growled under his breath. He could have been lounging around with Percy and Annabeth today, watching a stupid movie but instead he was stuck here in the past of all things!

He had the worst luck…

Sighing, Nico looked around. He had stumbled across the playground a few hours ago and had just decided to stay there. It wasn't very smart, but after what Nico found out, he really didn't care.

For all he knew, Hecate or whoever sent him wanted him to be in the presence of those wizards'.

When he got here, the playground had been deserted—empty. Now it was slightly less empty, but as far as Nico was concerned it was teeming with life. Nico scowled. He wanted peace and quiet, not to hear the loud piercing shouts of some little kids.

Currently, said little kids were swinging around on a creaking, miniature Mary-Go-Round. Squeals of laughter kept Nico's repeating headache going strong. He cast the group glares periodically, causing them to shut up fearfully as he sat as far away from them as possible but it didn't solve his problem.

He sat on the edge of the playground, where the rectangular metal borders boxed in the mulched in area. The only strange thing that he noticed perhaps was the fifteen year old boy that came a few minutes earlier.

He sat on one of the swings, spaced out and depressed. Nico had looked at him twice sure enough. There was something off about the boy, but he had too much of a headache to use any of his powers right now.

He needed a good, nice nap…

* * *

When Nico awoke, he wasn't expecting to see two boys—the lanky depressed one from earlier and a walrus—running for their lives toward the road up ahead. Nico just blinked in mild surprise as he watched them dash away.

Well actually, the thin figure was the one doing the running. The walrus of a boy seemed to be running in slow motion, but his panting, however, seemed to be in fast forward. The boy could have been part-snail with that kind of speed!

That idiot wouldn't last a minute in Camp. Nico snorted and slowly stood up to stretch. His cracking limbs provided him with the first sounds of the evening.

Fortunately for Nico's eardrums, the scared teens had not been screaming.

His eyes followed the boys as their figures became tinier and tinier from gained distance. They were trampling over the grass in a mad race to get to the…road.

Were they late for dinner?

Nico knew how mad mothers could get when that happened. Take Sally Jackson, for example. Whenever he was staying with Percy, which seemed to be happening a lot lately, Percy pushed punctuality on him.

Now, Nico listens but the first time…not so much. Nico, not smart enough to heed Percy's warning, had come in five minutes late to see Percy and Paul quivering in the corner and a maniacal Sally with a dough roller slapping her palm.

Once she saw him, she exploded and started chasing him with said dough roller, yelling at him to come to dinner on time.

Suffice to say, that night he went to bed a hungry camper. Never again was he late to dinner.

He shuddered at the memory, but now he had to get back on track.

Looking around the playground, he saw it had emptied during his snooze. Delight ignited in his eyes—finally some peace and quiet! But that thought was quickly tossed out when he took a glance at the sky.

He cursed. He didn't know he'd slept that long!

The sky was overcast and grey, not a good sign. With his luck, it will be storming in about a minute. No wonder the boys were hightailing out of here!

Grumbling, he followed their lead, scuttling quickly over the overgrown weeds across the open field. He forced his legs to step up the pace as he scrambled uphill.

Being outside when Zeus decided to give the Earth a shower was not a good idea for the son of Hades.

Panting slightly, he finally reached the dark road. Wait, _dark_? What the—he threw another glance at the sky and was deeply surprised to find it very dark. Nico almost thought he was back in the Underworld again.

He furrowed his brows. Night shouldn't have come so early. It was unnatural—especially in the middle of summer! And now that Nico stopped to think about it, he realized that it was entirely too cold for the aforementioned season.

The temperature seemed fit for early winter but not mid summer. He frowned. Something unnatural was _definitely_ going on here.

Ice began gathering rapidly beneath him. His eyes widened as he watched it spread. Confused and disheveled, he made his way to the tunnel for some cover. In unexpected weather, well, he didn't know what to expect.

So the smart and safe idea was to head for safety before he got pelted on the head by a piece of hail.

The mouth of the tunnel was a perfect concrete arch. The top reached to the ten foot mark, quite a margin from where the top of Nico's head lay. The dim light extended as far as a few inches into the tunnel but that was it. It was instincts from there on out.

Nico took a suspicious step forward, testing the waters. He took another and another until finally he sighed. He was being silly. He resumed a regular walking pace just to hear scuttles of movement along the walls.

A deep yelp sounded from somewhere followed by the wind rushing loudly.

Huh?

Confused and curious, Nico quickened his pace. He halted near the right edge of the cool wall, trying to concentrate, but the shuffles and whispers of movement weren't exactly helping. He reached to his shadows, using them as his night vision.

He was not going to grope around in a situation as mysterious as this. For all he knew, a monster had found him. He stiffened at the thought and instinctually pulled out his sword.

The three foot long sword of Stygian Iron, black as nightmare, appeared in his outstretched hand. He gripped it tightly, to reassure himself it was there, he still couldn't see very well. But before he could recall the shadows to be his eyes, he heard another yell.

"_Expecto Patronum!"_

Nico was just about to creep forward when a bright white light burst forth out of thin air. Suddenly the whole tunnel was alight and Nico could see as clear as day. He watched with wide eyes as the light morphed into a huge stag, antlers and all.

It leapt forward, prancing from right to left in a zigzag manner. But what it attacked left Nico completely shocked.

Floating in the midst of tattered black pieces of a musty cloak was one of the κηδεμόνες ψυχή! What was their business here?

Nico watched, frozen as the stag jumped onto the tall, thin figure, going straight for its head where a single hole resided for sucking emotions and souls.

A shuffle sounded to his right and Nico saw another one floating horizontally over the walrus teen from earlier, draining his happiness and joy in the form of a white, feathery mist.

Was he the one that yelled? No, that teen was too out of it. He looked a bit too sick and glazed over for that particular course of action—and not to mention fear induced. Nico couldn't blame him, though.

Mortals couldn't see them after all…But wait!

Then who shouted? A demigod? But no, they wouldn't shout some kind of Latin, they'd chant Greek rather, so who? Nico's head was swimming.

His brain was fried at this instant what with wizards, time travel, and England…Nico's eyes widened.

Wizards! Of course!

The one who yelled had to be a wizard! So that must have been a spell!

Sure enough, when Nico looked back to the right, he saw the skinny boy from earlier clutching a stick in front of the sole κηδεμόνες ψυχή, focused intensely on directing his stag.

But that still didn't explain why the soul guardians were here. They resided in the Underworld helping with the fields of Punishment. Though there was only a small portion of them, they were immensely loyal creatures both to Hades and his children.

Hades surmised that rest of them may be on the mortal plane living as Rogues. Hades had ordered the killing of them if any were to be found and if what Nico though was true, he had just confirmed his father's theory.

Now to deliver.

The stag seemed to be doing a number on the Rogue, but it would not be enough to kill it. Yes, happiness was a brilliant weapon against these beings, but it wasn't a killing weapon.

He sent his sword back into the shadows. He felt strangely cold without it, like a part of him was missing. Oh well, he shrugged. With a grunt, he called forth two small but deadly knifes—created from the same material as his sword.

They materialized instantly in both of his hands, ready to throw. Ignoring the exhaustion welling up in his head, he took a step back and aimed. He squinted at his unmoving target, taking a nice long look at its central killing point—the core.

He flicked his wrist and away the knife zoomed. It flipped over continuously in the air until hitting its target dead on. Nico grinned in satisfaction as the soul guardian exploded into dust with a bone chilling scream, the knife with it.

That was the reason he didn't use his sword; he'd rather keep it thank you very much. He turned around to face the left side of the dark tunnel where walrus boy was still suffering from happy drainage. He took aim and fired.

The knife hit its target effortlessly, embedding itself in the Rogue's exposed chest. It barely had time to shriek before it disintegrated from view. Nico smirked.

"What…? How did you…? I thought—" a masculine voice whispered in a British accent, stunned beyond belief.

Alarmed, Nico turned around to face the figure shrouded in the darkness of distance, but he was slowly dragging his feet forth. He'd forgotten all about him!

The boy's emerald eyes—so much like Percy's—stared at him in amazement. Nico stared back at him, choosing to invoke his right to remain silent—well, maybe. He didn't know if they had the same right in Britain.

"How did you do that? I've never been able to destroy a dementor!" the boy offered, curious as well as cautious.

Nico surveyed him, making note of his messy black hair, again similar to Percy's and his tense, skinny build—not similar to Percy's.

He was wearing clothes three sizes too big, probably from walrus boy to the right who was still shaking on the floor, whimpering silently.

Ignoring the boy's previous questions, he queried, "Who are you?"

The boy froze, shocked. "What? You don't know? Well maybe it's because you can't see me…" he muttered, stepping into a patch of light.

The only peculiar thing that Nico didn't notice before was an ugly, red lightning bolt-shaped scar in the corner of his head. Just staring at the scar, Nico felt it—the feeling of complete and absolute agony.

He winced at the sudden feeling as the boy rubbed his scar. But all too soon the feeling passed over as Nico adapted to it. His eyes narrowed dangerously. It was him! The boy was the piece of soul Nico had felt in that building earlier!

He eyed the boy threateningly. The boy did the same but held up his stick. If he seemed wary before, he was suspicious now—highly suspicious.

"Who are you!" he demanded, defiance smoldering in his emerald orbs.

"Are you a death eater? Are you working with Voldemort?"

_Death eater? Voldewart?_

Nico raised an eyebrow, extremely confused. So he did the only thing he really could do in his situation.

"What the Hades are you talking about?"

The boy narrowed his eyes.

"Don't play dumb with me! I'll repeat it one more time. Are you a death eater?"

Nico had to stifle his laughter. First of all, death eater was the worst name anyone could come up with for a cult name or whatever. No one could eat Death and that wouldn't really leave a pleasant aftertaste in one's mouth anyway…

But secondly, if the boy thought anyone would just reveal they're a…'death eater' then he must be incredibly stupid or this cult was.

"Dude, I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. So I think I'll—"

"_Harry!_ Dear boy, are you alright? _I'm going to kill Mundungus Fletcher!"_

An old lady with a string bag in hand and strands of grizzled-gray hair slipping out of her hairnet hurried forth, frazzled and worry-stricken. Her half-filled slippers slapped jarringly against the ground as she hustled to catch up with the newly identified 'Harry'.

The boy lowered his wand and blinked in utter surprise.

"Mrs. Figg? What are you—?"

She interrupted him with, "Don't put that wand away! They might come back!"

Harry blinked again, looking from his wand to 'Mrs. Figg', understanding absent from his face. But it was not on Nico's either. His expression seemed to have come straight off of an out of control Ferris wheel; he was hopelessly lost.

"But—"

"Do it just in case!" she interrupted again, not even sparing Nico or the walrus whimpering on the floor a glance.

"But Mrs. Figg—" Harry tried again, but the old woman would have none of it.

"Why are you protesting—?"

"_Because the dementors are dead!"_

Harry seemed to be angry with himself after he yelled, clamping his jaw shut. Mrs. Figg was speechless. Nico watched the exchange in baffled amusement. While he understood half of what was going on, the other half seemed to be hiding from him behind a one way screen.

Mrs. Figg looked back up at him with awe stretched out on her worn features.

"They told me you were powerful but I didn't know you were this powerful."

Harry looked annoyed. His face seemed to be buzzing with questions and confusion—a mirror of Nico's.

"They? Who are 'they'? And I didn't kill them! _He_ did!"

Now it was Mrs. Figg's turn to look baffled.

"He? Who?"

For the first time that night, Mrs. Figg averted her gaze from Harry and looked straight at Nico.

"You? Who are you?"

She turned to Harry and whispered, "Is he a muggle?"

But Nico heard it as plain as day. He sighed. He didn't know what a muggle was and he didn't know what was going on, though he assumed that the other two present thought the soul guardians to be called 'dementors'. Just perfect, but it wouldn't be the first time.

Harry once again raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"No, he couldn't be. He killed them. And how do you know about muggles? Are you a witch?" he questioned, but Nico heard a slight anger bubbling underneath.

Mrs. Figg took to being surprised fairly well. She gave him a look.

"I'm a squib, Harry! I can't do an ounce of magic to save my life! Something that Mundungus Fletcher knows full well—"

"You're a—and nobody thought to tell me anything? That's just bloody brilliant."

Nico snorted.

"You're not the only one out of the loop," he muttered.

Harry glared at him before turning his attention back to the elderly lady grumbling about the guy called Mundungus Fletcher. The two were side by side against the wall opposite to Nico. If he wants to leave, now would be a good time to do it.

But he couldn't just leave without tearing the ripped soul out and sending it to where it belonged. With a regretful sigh, Nico realized that he'd have to stay with the weirdoes, at least until his job is done. He was sent back in time for a reason.

His attention turned back to the two who were oblivious to the walrus still quivering on the floor. Nico smirked and quietly padded to the huge teen while Harry and Mrs. Figg talked about something or another.

Nico stopped a few inches away from the breathing blubber on the floor. He began to bend his leg back, getting ready for the kick of the century. As soon as his right leg was a few inches behind him, he kicked forward.

His foot sailed through the air, aiming for the boy's side. The foot struck gold as it hammered into the overweight boy's stomach. Nico grunted as the unfamiliar weight shifted onto his foot. The walrus groaned loudly.

His hands instinctively groped his hurt area and Nico backed away swiftly, idly saying, "Get up!"

Nico grinned as a moan came as the reply. The walrus shifted on the ground but no more. Conversion behind him had halted as the pair was reminded that they had company.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about Dudley," Harry muttered.

Mrs. Figg frowned disapprovingly at the oaf on the floor.

"Get up, lazy bones! Harry you need to get him out of here. The boy looks like he's about to faint. Merlin knows what your aunt and uncle are going to do…" She tsked.

Nico raised an eyebrow. Was Harry an orphan?

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, sighing.

He walked forward to the heap on the floor and picked up his left arm. Mrs. Figg was about to follow but a loud, popping noise froze her in mid-step. Suddenly, her face boiled in rage and she stormed down the opposite end of the tunnel.

Oddly enough, Nico heard some shouts and shuffles, but chose to ignore it—it wasn't his business. Turning his attention back to Harry, he saw the skinny boy trying to haul the walrus up, but only succeeded in dropping 'Dudley'. Nico watched as Harry went through Trial and Error with great amusement.

Finally he offered, "Need some help?"

Harry looked at Nico gratefully as replied, "I'd appreciate it, thanks."

He seemed to have forgotten all earlier suspicion. But things were never as they seemed.

With a nod, Nico grabbed the other arm and together they hauled up the fat lump. Surprisingly, Dudley the Walrus didn't seem to weigh that much. He wasn't too heavy, just average compared to the weights Nico and Percy lifted at Camp.

But hey, Nico wasn't complaining. Slinging Dudley's right arm over his shoulder, he waited for Harry to do the same.

Once that was done, they were off.

* * *

Hades snarled at the indifferent goddess standing in front of him. Her green orbs were surprisingly determined, her stance remained unyielding.

"You did _not_ have any right to pull my son into your games without my consent. Therefore, I have the right to bring this to Zeus. Do you disagree?"

The light in her eyes dimmed a little, to Hades satisfaction.

"No, I do not," she answered calmly.

Hades frowned. Then why did she risk it when she knew the consequences?

"Then you admit to willingly acting out of bounds? You admit to taking my son, knowing full well the consequences, yet doing it anyway?"

Hecate did not wilt, like he'd expected. Her head shifted downward only a tiny fraction.

"Yes, I do."

Hades glowered at her, clenching his fists to keep his temper in check. How dare she use his son without his knowledge or his consent. _How dare she!_ He forced himself to calm down. This was the attitude that separated him from everyone all those centuries.

"I will not ask for Zeus' counsel if you allow me contact with my son. Do you accept this offer?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Hades, I believe you—"

"_Do you accept_?" he thundered.

The ground shook terribly above them, rattling the palace. Hecate flinched as if he'd slapped her in the face. Her eyes held unquenchable fear in their depths, yet her face betrayed nothing.

She looked him in the eyes and responded, "I accept, though you do need to know there is a slight problem with your offer."

"_What_?" he sneered. He was loosing patience with the goddess.

"Your message will have to come through me. As I sent him, only I can have contact with him. If your son were in the present then the matter would be different. But I'm afraid he's not in the present. He's in the past."

* * *

"_Duddy-kins_! Vernon! Vernon, come quick! _Vernon_!"

Nico and Harry had successfully dragged 'Duddy-kins' back to his parents. He knew the parents would be frightened, but he didn't think they'd be this much so!

His mother—a woman with a short, blonde mane and a body as skinny as a rail—had come rushing out onto the porch at the first sound. Her terrified eyes swept right over Nico and Harry without a second glance as she took in her son's less than healthy appearance.

But hell, it was less than healthy before this incident.

After shrieking Nico's eardrums out, she assumingly called for her husband. She pried Dudley out of Nico and Harry's grasp leaving both of them to wonder how such a skinny woman could carry a heavy weight like that.

But soon they snapped out of their daze and Harry stepped inside. Nico, uninvited, chose to practice his manners and stay outside. He didn't want to see the episode that was about to happen no matter how comical it may be.

Studying the porch, he found the absence of any chairs and found a surplus of flowers. Scowling, he sat down on the hard porch floor, avoiding the steps.

They may come back out soon. His eyes had just barely swept over the homogenous neighborhood before a yawn lulled them to close. He had used a fair amount of energy today and it was night time, so maybe…

Nico was asleep before he even finished that thought.

* * *

**AN**: I hope you enjoyed this! I'll admit, this isn't my best work but I didn't want to spend days revising it. I didn't want to keep you all waiting! =D And anyway THANK ALL OF YOU WHO REVIEWED! I never ever expected that many reviews! So THANK YOU SO MUCH! =D So you know the drill now: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! XD Happy Father's day!

~Peridot15:)


	5. The Offer

"Has Nico di Angelo been found yet?" Albus asked, carefully choosing his words. Alastor's fake eye whizzed over him erratically, his lips curling into an irritated frown.

"No, not yet. He's a slippery one," he muttered unhappily.

Albus frowned slightly until he heard the distinct crash of the Floo system.

"Excuse me, Alastor."

Alastor obliged and stood with his staff clutched tightly in his hands, ready for any attack as was the life of a certain ex-Auror. But when Albus came back, he did not expect the jolly professor's face to be sheet white.

Alastor immediately narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"What happened?" he barked, not bothering to act polite.

Albus opened his mouth, his eyes grave.

"I'm afraid Harry was just attacked by dementors. The ministry is trying to expel him for underage wizardry. I sent them a letter for a trial but it won't be easy. We must bring Harry to headquarters now."

* * *

Nico had been dreaming a nice dark dream when he was rudely awakened by a kick to his stomach. His eyes snapped open and his body bolted straight up. A death glare found its way to his face.

"_What the Hades!"_ he growled, looking for the perpetrator.

But the second he found them, he wished he hadn't. It was the pirate impersonator and his squadron of stick wielders. Nico glowered at them all, slowly creeping to the left of the porch. But before he could take another step, the man raised his staff at him threateningly.

"Don't move another inch," he barked.

Reluctantly, Nico complied. But with all of his attention focused on the leader, he didn't pay heed to any of his group. A girl with purple hair waved her wand after yelling a bunch of Latin, sending a red light zooming towards Nico's chest.

Nico stared at it, paralyzed. Shock kept him from dodging, from moving. The realization of what it was hit him only as the light did. Power pushed at his chest and forced him back, slamming him against the wall. His head throbbed like he'd been hit with a huge stone.

He had just enough time to curse as he fell into the black void.

* * *

"Young man, would you please tell us how you infiltrated this location?"

This question again. They'd repeated it at least twenty times, although in different context. But even so, Nico refused to speak. He kept his mouth closed and glared, silently fuming, at the assembled group before him.

They'd knocked him out, kidnapped him, and brought him back to the very place that he'd _mistakenly_ come upon!

This couldn't be legal!

He was in some kind of meeting room. The walls were old and musty like the rest of the house, even matching the dust coating on the center table that the wizards and witches were crowding around.

Chairs attached to their bums were under the table as they tried to crowd his personal space as much as possible. Nico swore he could count the amount of freckles on this old man to his right.

The old geezer that had led the interrogation before he escaped was the only one standing. He and Pirate Man that he had found out was called 'Moody' were the lead interrogators tonight. He also overheard the old man's name: Dumbledore.

Nico can't help but think how stupid their names were. He supposed he should have known their names the first time around, but his memory doesn't keep what it thinks it doesn't need.

"Boy, you will tell us," Moody growled, shoving his face up in Nico's line of sight.

He was tied up to the point that his head couldn't turn, even if he really wanted it to. Nico kept his mouth shut, almost wishing he had a gag. That would have been his excuse.

But even as his attention was focused on the assembly of magical mortals before him, he couldn't help but wonder what happened to that Harry dude.

Oh well, that wasn't his concern. His concern was getting out of here and back to his own time. He could just imagine Percy and Annabeth leading a search party.

"_Look in the graveyards! The memorials! The Underworld! The Hades Cabin! McDonalds!"_

Nico sighed. He'd rather face their wrath than be captured by a bunch of magic-using megalomaniacs. After firing more unanswered questions, they finally gave up. The old man seemed haggard and exhausted.

The twinkle in his eye had disappeared a long time ago. He sighed and called it a day.

"We should have asked Harry first. Alastor, would you please escort Mr. di Angelo to his room?"

The mention of 'Harry' perked Nico's ears, overriding his reluctance of being led by Moody. So the boy _did_ know these people. Well, it was kind of obvious before, but still—that was supposed to be Nico's nap time.

And that statement probably meant the boy was here, as well. Maybe he could work on trying to get the ripped soul out of him. That was after all why he hadn't left as soon as the Rogues were dealt with.

"Come on."

Moody grabbed his shoulder and shoved him forward. Nico walked through the semi-familiar hallway with Moody on his tail until they came upon a dark door. Moody forced the door open, letting it hit the wall with a loud crash.

Out of the corner of his eye, Nico saw Moody point his staff at Nico and mutter something. The ropes disappeared causing Nico to immediately massage his itchy arms.

Just before the man shut the door he said, "This room has been charmed so that you cannot escape. If you try, I will know."

Well, there goes Operation Get-Ripped-Soul-Out.

* * *

Just before Albus left, he called Harry to talk to him. As soon as Albus saw the boy, a pang of regret entered his heart. Harry looked more depressed than he'd ever seen him. He looked worn, as if a big weight had been shoved on his shoulders.

But even so, there was still fire in his eyes. Albus sighed mentally. And to think he was going to ignore the boy.

"Harry, Mrs. Figg told me you destroyed the dementors. Is this true?"

If it was, then Harry had performed a remarkable feat. In all his years, Albus had never seen a wizard able to kill those soul sucking creatures. Even_ he_ couldn't kill one! This could be an astonishing testament to the abilities of the Boy Who Lived if true.

But Harry's reaction said otherwise. His shoulders sagged in exasperation and he began shaking his head.

"No, Professor. The dementors were killed but not by me."

Intrigued, Dumbledore leaned forward. Even though they were in the spacious meeting room of the Order, curiosity knew no bounds.

"Then who, my boy?"

Harry hesitated. His expression turned uneasy but nonetheless, he knew Harry will answer him.

"Well, I don't know actually. It was this boy…"

He went onto describe him. Albus felt a certain foreboding feeling erupt at the description. He knew a person that matched that physique…

"Professor?"

Albus snapped out of his wonderings and smiled at Harry.

"Yes, Harry?"

Harry's eyes seemed to darken with suspicion and caution.

"When the boy saw my scar, it began to hurt. At first I thought he may have a connection to Voldemort but then I saw that he was in pain, too. What do you think?"

Oh, Albus thought something alright. As strange as Harry's account was, it confirmed Albus' suspicion. There was only one boy like that, shrouded in mystery.

Nico di Angelo.

* * *

The next morning, Nico woke up groggy and disorientated. That red light spell left an aftertaste of pain in his chest. He cursed and fell off the now messy bed. He groaned as he hit the floor, his vision swimming.

He blinked a few times before he stood back up and stretched. When he felt fine enough to move around, he flattened out his clothes and made his bed. Usually he would have left it messy, but he was bored enough as it was.

He could probably shadow travel around their charms and whatnot but he had a duty here. He sighed and sat back on the bed. Leaning against the dusty wall, his eyelids began to droop. He had just begun to snooze when he heard the door creak open.

He immediately snapped awake and jumped off the bed in a crouch, glaring at the newcomer.

It turned out to be old man Dumbledore. Today, he was dressed in a horrible combination of pink and orange robes with a navy blue rim. But no matter how ridiculous he looked, Nico knew the old man did it to hide his power.

But even so he still sensed the man's powerful aura. It spoke to him as clear as day. Nico cautiously stood up and waited for the man to speak. He had a reason for coming didn't he? Other than to waste Nico's time, right?

"Harry told me you bested the dementors sent to attack him; you destroyed them with little to no effort. That is no ordinary feat, especially if you are a muggle—which I have no doubt that you are not. Muggles cannot see dementors. So I will ask again—are you of magical origins?"

Nico stiffened. So Harry had told the old geezer. Hmm…should he tell the man the truth? No. A half truth perhaps? Maybe.

"No, I am not a wizard," Nico stated quietly, glaring daggers at the old man.

Dumbledore seemed not to be phased but Nico sensed the fear leaking out of him. No one, except Percy and his father, could meet his glare with indifference. Percy only could because he'd become used to it and his father had a better one.

"Then how did you destroy the dementors?" Dumbledore fired at him, hiding it behind a guise of gentleness.

Nico paused for a minute before responding.

"I stuck a knife through it. The κηδεμόνες ψυχή are as mortal as anyone else. They bleed, they die."

Bluntness seemed to silence the man for a bit. The tension between the two could have been felt a mile away. There was no mistaking it.

"Yes, but Harry told me they incinerated on the spot. And is that name what you know dementors by?"

Ignoring the previous statement, Nico replied, "Yes."

Dumbledore looked thoughtful, eyeing the young boy in front of him. The boy was definitely guarded, not divulging a single thing. But one thing was for sure—Nico di Angelo was powerful. Especially if he could kill a dementor, a feat no wizard had achieved.

But he claimed he was not a wizard. So what could he be? A muggle with powers? Or was his previous claim true? Did he really kill a dementor with muggle weapons? But even if he was a muggle, that did not explain how he could see those creatures.

Maybe he was a Squib but unaware of his heritage?

Dumbledore was becoming more and more baffled by the second. Nico saw the puzzled gears of his mind directly on his face. He smirked.

Finally Dumbledore asked, "Have you ever heard of a Lord Voldemort?"

His mind recognized the name or whatever it was just barely but Nico couldn't remember where. So he let his face show puzzlement.

"Who?"

Dumbledore surprised him by smiling. Nico was even more confused. What the Hades was going on here?

Meanwhile, Albus Dumbledore was pleased. He saw genuine confusion on the boy's face. So either the boy was telling the truth or he was a very good actor. Either way, Dumbledore wanted him close.

Someone powerful enough to breach the Fidelis Charm without even realizing it, destroy a sacred heirloom, and kill dementors was an asset to either side, magical or not. And Dumbledore was pretty sure the boy was not involved with the wizarding world.

His theory was that the boy was a squib, only he didn't know.

Even though he wanted to know the boy's secrets, he shall respect his privacy for now. He had an offer for Nico di Angelo—an offer that may or may not help Harry.

"Mr. di Angelo, would you like to attend Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

But instead of excitement he expected, Dumbledore received another reaction.

"Huh?"

Hogwarts? What in the world? Nico managed to suppress a snicker. These wizards sure like odd names. But still, a magic school was a magic school—a school where Nico wouldn't be able to do squat. He was a demigod, not a wizard!

"I am the Headmaster of Hogwarts, where magic is taught, and I am extending an invitation for you to attend."

Okay, he got that. Nico was just wondering how on Earth the old coot got that idea. Nico couldn't even do magic! For someone so wise, he was awfully dumb.

"One problem. I'm not a wizard. I can't do magic," Nico deadpanned.

Dumbledore pursed his lips.

"Ah, that is a problem. Then perhaps you can be our guest?"

Well, that was a surprise. But what did that entail? Nico asked the old man who had gained the twinkle in his eye back.

"You would merely observe. You would not have to participate in classes and you would have freedoms that students do not."

Nico still felt like he was missing something. This guy screamed suspicious to him.

"What's the catch?" he asked.

Dumbledore didn't miss a beat. He'd learned not to step out of his boundaries with this young man.

He smiled carefully and replied, "I would like you to keep an eye on Harry. He has been marked by Lord Voldemort, a dark wizard who is aiming to kill him. But, sadly, the wizarding community does not believe his return. Our minister, a person similar to an American President, has been doing everything in his power to shun Harry. Will you accept?"

The word 'return' caught Nico's attention. Return from what? His suspicions increased tenfold. He might actually have a purpose for being sent here after all. If this guy was believed to have returned from the dead, the ripped pieces of soul most likely belong to him.

That would explain its presence on Harry. And if that was the case, this wizard was attempting to cheat death. Cold fury erupted within his mind. That was something he will not allow! He knew he should ask for an overview of the wizarding world, but his pride would not allow it.

He could always research on his own, especially if that school had a library.

With a fire igniting in his eyes, he declared, "I accept."

* * *

"Hades, I am ready for your message now. When I fall into deep sleep, enter my mind to deliver your message."

Hades eyed her indifferently before nodding. He _was_ going to contact his son one way or another.

* * *

**AN: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm sorry I didn't update sooner but I had so much going on from volunteering to softball. Then I got sick. Just as I managed to recover, I got hit in the eye with a softball. Thank you, Softball, for the _lovely_ shiner. DX So that took a couple of days to get over. And anyways thank ALL of you who reviewed, put my story in your favorites or story alerts! It means A TON to me! =D So PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	6. His Secret Plot

Something wasn't right.

Nico knew he went to sleep so how was he in some kind of dark room? He blinked, annoyed. Sighing, he took advantage of his legs and walked forward. The room he was currently in turned out to be dark and dreary.

Such a surprise.

Nico raised his eyebrows, looking the shadowy room over. He'd bet his arm that this was his dreamscape. No room in that place had a dark, empty room like this. Okay, let him amend that. That place had not a dark, empty, and _modern_ room like this.

Turning back around, he proceeded to wait. He wouldn't be here unless a god or goddess wanted to meet with him. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be conscious during his dreams unless they were demigod dreams or contact dreams. This was supposedly the latter.

His guess was on his father; the other gods and goddesses made it quite clear they wanted nothing to do with him.

And when he heard the rush of air behind him, he was not the least bit surprised to see his father standing there in all his glory. His intense, inky-black eyes seemed to be angrier than usual. Nico would do well to keep that in mind.

His matching shoulder length hair wasn't the least affected by the mini tornado in which he arrived and nor was his soul-threaded, silk robes. As if sensing his anxiety, Hades' gaze softened as it landed on Nico. Relief poured through Nico; perhaps he could skip formalities then.

"Father," Nico greeted, dipping his head.

Hades stared at him a moment longer before reciprocating the greeting.

"Son."

Nico almost fidgeted under his father's gaze. But the two had known each other for far too long for that.

"You called for me?"

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Hades features hardened, his eyes turning cold. Fury seemed to radiate off him in wide-reaching waves. Nico almost turned furious himself.

_Definitely angry, but at whom or what?_

"I did not," he ground out through gritted teeth.

Nico looked at him in confusion. Then why was he—

"Hecate has _allowed_ me contact with you."

_Hecate? Why couldn't he just contact me himself? Did that mean—_Nico's eyes widened.

Hecate was the one to send him here! And since she sent him to the past, only she would have contact with him! His father must have convinced her to—

"You are correct. But I do not take to this _quest _kindly. If you are killed, she will receive the _worst _punishment that I can grant."

Nico didn't even bat an eyelash at the fact that his father practically read his mind. It must be because they were in his dreamscape.

The only thing that pissed him off was that Hecate sent him here without any directions.

If this was a quest, then why didn't she tell him? Irritated, Nico looked up to see his father mirroring his emotions—like father, like son.

"She wants you to help her _pet _world—the wizards. But she doesn't seem to have any plans for you," Hades broke off in a mocking manner.

Nico involuntarily shivered at the look in his eyes. It was worse than looking into Tartarus itself. The fury Hades held was insurmountable. And all just because Nico'd been taken against his will? Nico almost grinned in spite of himself.

"And so _I_ will make use of this if she won't."

Hades seemed to level out as they ventured farther and farther from the subject of Hecate. But nonetheless, Nico was curious. Did his father mean a quest within a quest? The idea intrigued Nico, who smirked.

Hades raised an amused eyebrow, catching Nico's train of thought.

"Yes, I suppose. But your task will be to get rid of Tom Riddle also known by his alias Voldemort. He created those abominations—_horcurxes._"

If his father's fury was already at maximum level before, it was now bone-shattering. He spat out the last piece like it was the foulest curse in the universe. Nico flinched at the amount of sheer anger in his father's tone. But he still had to agree with those sentiments.

Any mortal that believes they can cheat death are abominations, themselves. But this mortal seemed to take it one step farther, creating those 'horcruxes'. He didn't know what horcruxes were for sure, but his guess was on those torn up pieces of soul he encountered earlier. The word was familiar, though…

"You have destroyed one already? Then continue. There are five more. That petulant mortal created a huge traffic jam in the Underworld. It took _years_ to recover. If you can prevent this, then it will save me a lot of effort and headaches."

Well, that confirmed that. The word 'horcrux' was now in the demigod's dictionary. And thankfully, Hades was back to projecting calmness and indifference. Those outbursts of emotion may seem to be a one time thing to an outsider, but Nico knew his father as an emotional being.

And Nico was glad to hear it; he'd rather not have an automaton for a father. Hades eyed him and Nico realized he'd heard that thought. Keeping a blank face as well as a blank mind, he did the one thing he thought would direct attention away from that wayward thought.

"Yes, my lord."

Amused at his course of action, Hades nodded.

The Lord of the Dead was just about to fade when he suddenly declared, "And Nico, send the κηδεμόνες ψυχή back when they find you."

Nico stared at the empty spot where his father had stood not one minute ago.

_Huh?_

* * *

"Nico? Nico, dear, its time for breakfast! Hurry up!"

Nico groaned at the rude awakening. The owner of the soprano voice shuffled out of his room before he had a chance to put her on his hit list. He should have been awake at the first sound, but his mind was still reeling from his meeting with his father.

But on the bright side, he learned three things. Firstly, Hecate was an incompetent quest giver. He dearly hoped that _she_ couldn't read his mind as well or else he'd be seeing his father a lot sooner than he thought.

Secondly, he was supposed to kill Tom "Voldemort" Riddle and his nasty horcruxes. But the ultimate goal Nico saw here was to ask the man about _what in the world_ had caused him to pick such a stupid alias. He smirked.

And lastly, he learned his father actually _does_ have a soft spot—his offspring. He'd had a hunch before but this confirmed it. All in all, he felt he learned much more than he would at any school. But, sadly, he had not yet learned that he should get up when told to do so.

And so, he ignored the woman's instructions and went back to sleep in his comfortable bed. A bad feeling kept nagging at him and telling him to do the opposite, but he ignored it in favor of sleep. If he came to regret it later, then he came to regret it later.

How true he was.

Later, Nico would be wondering why Fate hated him so much. So without further ado, the young son of Hades slipped back into dreamland.

* * *

The terrified shrieks and alarmed yells woke the demigod up not five minutes later—the third rude awakening of the week. He bolted upright, his senses going into overdrive. His sword appeared in his hand immediately, even though he had yet to get out of bed.

Careful not to cut himself, he sprang out of the bed and rushed to the door. He sent the door hurtling into the wall with a loud crash, but paid it no heed. Something was wrong; something _terrible _if those screams were any clue.

He dashed into the dark, narrow hallway, dodging stray umbrellas and unidentifiable objects. In the midst of his scrambling, he did not realize that a portrait was watching his movements greedily.

A certain former Headmaster Black's eyes gleamed triumphantly; Albus would want to hear about the boy's sword.

Meanwhile, Nico had reached the entrance to the kitchen. The redheaded woman—stout and short—was hyperventilating on the floor, babbling about something under her breath. A tall, redheaded boy—whom Nico figured was her son—stood stock-still in undiluted terror, as if he'd just witnessed the death of a loved one.

The steaming food was all but ignored while the frozen occupants finally rushed into action. A girl with bushy, brown hair and eyes wide with fright started shouting for Harry as the other three wizards stumbled out of their seats. But her words only froze them once more.

None of them seemed to notice Nico, who was staring at them in bewilderment in only his boxers and a sword that he didn't have before. His hair was ruffled in a bedraggled sort of way and his lean muscles were clear as day on his shirtless chest.

But despite the unusual sight, the wizards were too caught up in their horror to spare Nico a glance. Nico lowered his sword, shaking his head—so much for comrades.

Once he had accepted Dumbledore's request, the wizard had decided that he wanted Nico in cahoots with his 'friends'.

So the old man had properly introduced Nico to the other residents of this headquarters. Well, the adults anyway, he seemed to forget about the younger residents. The old man wouldn't tell him for which organization and for the life of him, Nico couldn't explain why.

Maybe because he wasn't one of them? But never mind that; the old coot was welcoming him into their magic school and giving him a job of spying on his golden boy.

He sighed; pondering the old man's motives would have to wait. They may have a situation here and it didn't help that Nico had no clue what. For all he knew, they could be freaking over a Barbie doll or perhaps they did it just to get him up.

But if that were the case, then they'd actually have been anticipating his arrival—which they weren't.

Another scream broke through his concentration as well as a feeling—a familiar feeling. After a minute of trying to remember the sensation, he finally recalled where he'd felt it before—in the Underworld. The conversation with his father fresh in his mind, he smirked.

The κηδεμόνες ψυχή were always causing drama everywhere they went. He sent his sword back into the protection of the shadows. He didn't need it to coax the soul guardians to return to his father. They were incredibly loyal to Hades and his offspring, after all.

And not to mention this course of action was on Hades' orders.

As the feeling heightened, so did the nervous actions of the wizards. They seemed to be petrified in fear, lost in painful memories. Their bodies seized up as if they were in a state of suspended animation. Nico could see their eyes literally clogging up with fear and regret.

Others had drawn their wands and were yelling something that sounded like what Harry had yelled back when Nico had killed the Rogues.

A few minutes later and they were all shaking. The ones that were attempting some sort of magic had obviously failed. And Nico just stood there, debating over whether he should shake, too. But he decided against it, no one had even noticed him yet.

A cold wind wrapped its freezing clutches around the room, creating ice. The cold crystals formed on wilting flowers and over the once-steaming food. It expanded over the tables and walls, extending its reach. The wizards watched with grave expressions as it flew towards the kitchen entrance but…it stopped.

It stopped just as it was about to go past a boy in nothing but his boxers. The young women in the room blushed, reprimanding themselves about admiring his physique in the middle of a dangerous situation. Nico just stood there confidently, smirking even.

He was patiently awaiting _their_ presence.

And he was rewarded when two cloaked creatures floated into the room, igniting fear within the wizards and content within Nico. It was like seeing an old friend. The faces of the soul guardians snapped up as they caught Nico's presence among the wizards and their cloaks snapped off their heads.

The wizards gasped as they saw a circular hole gaping back at them. Their black, shriveled skin on their faces rippled as they bowed down to their Master's son.

_"Master Nico, we have orders from Master Hades to bring you back to him," _they breathed in ancient Greek.

They started to move closer. The wizards, not understanding a word, backed up, breathing loudly.

Nico, ignoring the wizards, nodded to the κηδεμόνες ψυχή before replying, _"My father has revoked those orders. He wishes you back in his domain."_

His mouth took happily to the familiar language. If he could speak it all the time, he would. It was so much easier to read, write and say than English—so much more natural.

The cloaked beings studied Nico for a moment.

But finally with one last "_Yes, Master Nico"_, they vanished into thin air, having gone back to the Underworld.

Nico almost sighed in sadness; he didn't mind their familiar presence in an unfamiliar territory.

He was about to go back to his room when he felt the shocked eyes of the wizards staring holes into his back. His eyes narrowed and he whipped around.

"_Yes_?" he challenged icily, glaring at them.

They flinched and looked away. Smirking, he took his cue, ignoring the glances of terrified awe thrown at his back.

He realized that his actions today may lead them to question who or what he was but he couldn't help that. Orders were orders and if he absolutely had to, he could make up a lie about himself.

He walked back to his room.

* * *

"A black sword, Phineas?" Albus Dumbledore repeated curiously.

Phineas sneered. "Yes, Albus. Do you not believe me? Because I assure you I am not lying. We of the—"

"Yes, yes, thank you, Phineas," Albus quickly interrupted, not wanting to hear another monologue from the former Headmaster—especially not when he had so many things to think about.

Phineas huffed but said nothing. He just watched the current Headmaster from his portrait as Albus pulled on his thinking face.

Nico di Angelo was a curious fellow.

He managed to bypass magical wards, destroy dementors, and now he somehow hid a three-foot sword from them? Yes, he had many secrets it seemed and sooner or later, Albus would find out. His secrets could compromise their war efforts or add to them tremendously.

And inviting the young boy to his school was the first step to revealing his secrets. Nothing stayed hidden forever; he knew that especially.

He would have continued on that train of thought had a magical alarm not sounded in his office.

His eyes widened.

That would be Alastor. Had something happened? Curiosity and worry tumbled off him in waves as he hastily apparated to Twelve Grimmauld Place.

* * *

"Wait, _what_?" Harry asked, trying to process the fast paced explanation tumbling out of Hermione's lips.

All of the tension from earlier had been put aside. There had been a security breach earlier—by dementors no less—and he was trying to find out what happened. Hermione was his only option. Ron was nowhere to be found and the adults were in a meeting.

"Nico—I think—just stood there when they came in! He didn't even seem to be affected like the rest of us—and it has never been reported that anyone is immune to dementors so that should have been impossible—"

"Hermione, please!" Harry interrupted.

She could do her research later. He just wanted to know what the bloody hell happened! She looked flustered and immediately apologized. Harry waved it off—too eager to hear what had transpired only an hour ago. He had been kept out of the loop too many times already, but he refused to be this time!

"And so the dementors began making sounds like a sort of language—at least that's what it sounded like—and none of us could understand it. But he could, Nico that is. He even spoke back to them in the same language! Do you think he'll tell me what language he spoke in? It sounded something like Greek, but I can't be sure—"

"Hermione!" Harry broke in once again, half-irritated, half-amused.

She pulled a sheepish look.

"Sorry, sorry. And once he finished speaking, the dementors just vanished—disappeared! I didn't even know they could do that! Do—"

But Harry's mind was already tuned out of her rambling. Nico had already destroyed them and now supposedly he could send them away? Did he tell them to go away or did he forcibly send them out?

"Hermione, did Nico do anything that looked magical?"

Hermione thought for a minute, chewing on her lip.

"No, but for some reason the dementors seemed to bow to him." Her eyes widened. "Do you think that—"

"—that he could be some sort of overlord to them? Yes, actually."

Hermione gave him an irritated look for interrupting her.

"So no wonder he could destroy them easily! And if he can control them then that would be a huge advantage. But wait, if he can, do you think he sent them after you to gain his way in here? Moody said he'd escaped, so he could have met up with those two that attacked you and killed them just to gain our trust. He could really be working for—"

"Voldemort," Harry ground out furiously.

Hermione flinched, but Harry ignored it. Fury pounded through him. He was played with once again! He clenched his fists. He turned on his heel and started moving towards Nico's room. But a hand flew out and grabbed his right arm, stopping him.

"Harry! Wait! Don't you think we should take this to Dumbledore?"

Harry hesitated, some of his anger leaving him but then he remembered how Dumbledore had virtually ignored him all summer. His rage climbed up a bar.

"He didn't tell me anything so why should I tell him about this? Tell me, Hermione. I can take care of this by myself. It happened to _me_, after all."

He took another step forward, shrugging off Hermione's grip. He heard nothing behind him and quickened his pace. He was sick and tired of people toying with him, _using_ him!

He kicked open Nico's door, foregoing the fact that he didn't even had a confrontation plan. He just _had_ to vent out his anger on someone! But before he could another step, something sharp rubbed gently against his neck. He froze as it pressed deeper, his mind reeling in shock.

"Don't take another step."

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the long wait, but I kept revising this chapter over and over and then I was gifted with a jammed finger, so I couldn't really type for a few days. But anyway I hope you liked it. :) Sorry if it felt rushed. I tried. So anyway thanks EVERYONE for their continued support. I _really_ appreciate it! So now I'm going to end this note like I always do- PLZ PLZ REVIEW!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	7. A Different Kind of Talk

The minute Nico heard his door creaking open, he bounded out of bed—subconsciously calling his sword forth.

The smooth hilt slid into his outstretched hand just as he froze at the edge of the door case. His sword mirrored the progress of the door, rising up ever so slowly. And as soon as Nico saw the shadowy outline of a person step into his room, his arm lashed out, grabbing the intruder's shoulder.

His sword followed his left arm's lead and pressed against the thin neck of the now still invader. He faintly recalled growling out a warning, but he was too caught up in the blind fury that someone had the nerve to trespass into his room.

But then he remembered it wasn't entirely his room.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down, well aware that he shouldn't make this situation worse than it already was. Anger didn't get anyone anywhere; it was a lesson he'd learned the hard way. He ushered the person forward into his room and gently shut the door behind them.

Then he started firing questions.

With his sword creeping up the trespasser's neck, Nico asked, "What are you doing in here?"

It was always a bad idea letting the intruder in on the fact that their identity was unknown. It gave the intruder the impression that their captor was still vulnerable, no matter who had the upper hand. It gave leverage that Nico didn't like to hand out.

Nico's grip on his sword slackened a little once he felt the infiltrator's pulse race faster and faster—a side effect of human skin against Stygian Iron. He didn't want to kill them before justice was served.

And besides—no matter how dark or evil anyone thinks—he did have morals. Seconds passed until Nico finally received a breathy response.

"You tricked me. You _used_ me."

It was Harry's voice. Stunned, Nico almost dropped his sword. But the more he took in the words, the tighter his grip was on the sword. That was one accusation he wouldn't take lightly. He'd been tricked and used by too many people in his day, even by his own father.

It infuriated, _disgusted_ him when mortals, demigods, _anyone_ used their own kind, their own kin, for their own gain. It sickened him to the core and to be accused of such a crime riled him up like no other.

Some grudges he harbored had been forgiven and forgotten, but some felt as fresh as the wounds they created. Those words just delved in deeper, causing a pang of regret and grief to run through his body.

His emotion leaking into his voice he asked, "And why would I do that, Harry?"

Harry recoiled at the amount of pain in Nico's voice. It sounded genuine, sincere, but how was Harry supposed to know the truth anymore? Small gestures, even the most innocent and honest ones had been revealed as selfish and greedy ever since the rebirth of Voldemort.

He didn't know what to believe anymore. One part of him yearns to trust his friends and family, but another was slightly suspicious that they hadn't divulged one scrap of information to him during the summer.

Yes, he understood that he didn't need to know everything, but it would have been a treasure to him if Ron or Hermione had told him what was happening in the Wizarding World. And so for his response, he let his anger induced mind speak, not his heart.

"_You_ sent them—the dementors—after me in that alley and _pretended_ to help me. You 'saved' me from the dementors to gain our trust and then you'd report back to _Master_ _Voldemort_."

Nico flinched, his once blank face twisting in hurt. The sheer amount of hatred and accusation in Harry's tone lashed out at him, almost like a slap in the face. His previous anger drained away at the amount of confliction Nico felt radiating off the boy.

He remembered when he was once that boy—one part of him wanting to blame Bianca for dying and the other wishing to bring her back. With no idea what to do and no guidance but a greedy ghost, he had given into his negative emotions.

Nico wondered what had happened to Harry. He wondered what kind of terrible pain and heart wrenching agony the boy had to go through for this sort of mindset.

"Harry, I didn't trick or use or do _anything _to you but help you out. If I were a spy for what's-his-face why didn't I let the soul guardians kill you?"

Nico hoped the boy would see reason. He'd been through too much to just leave the teen afloat in the darkness, like Nico had been. No one should have to go down the road he did.

_No one_.

Meanwhile, Harry hesitated. He wanted to believe Nico, he really did. But he saw how putting trust in the wrong hands can ruin lives, friendships, anything.

Just look at his parents.

But he also acknowledged that withdrawing himself from everyone would have serious consequences. And so the question rose again for which path he should follow, which course of action.

Nico took the unending silence and continuous tensing and relaxing of Harry's muscles to be a good sign. It meant there was still hope for the wizard. Waiting for the other boy's response, Nico reacquainted himself with the presence of his sword and the shadows, which were dancing around the room.

He blinked and looked back in between Harry and his sword. He could've sworn he saw his sword absorbing a trail of mist from Harry's neck—his eyes widened and he hurriedly tugged his sword away.

Harry was no longer a threat, anyway.

Finally he heard Harry sigh. His muscles relaxed and his shoulders drooped like the weight of world was pressing down on him.

"I'm being paranoid. Sorry about that, mate. It's just what with Voldemort rising and the attack. And—"

He cut himself off, looking wary and exhausted. Nico nodded; sadly, he knew the cost of the war.

"And I probably didn't help the situation either."

Harry snorted sardonically.

"Where did you get that sword anyway? You didn't have it when I saw you back there…"

Nico glanced at his sword, blinking.

_Oh crap._

He silently cursed himself for revealing his sword so easily. He really needed to think before he acted.

"Nowhere important," Nico replied offhandedly, quietly banishing the sword back to the shadows.

He thanked the gods that the room was dark. He looked towards the spot he assumed Harry to be in. Harry didn't push further, seemingly accepting the answer.

An awkward silence sat between the two of them until Harry asked, "Why didn't you get angry when I accused you? Almost anyone else, well maybe except Dumbledore, would have."

Nico heard the light, curious tone. His mood sobered as his mind recollected all of his young and foolish choices. He may not be an adult yet, but his experiences spoke differently.

"I know what you're going through. I've gone down that path before—it's not easy."

Harry didn't speak immediately after that. Nico could tell he was thinking, considering, wondering if what Nico said was true.

"Then you know what its like to have so many people counting on that you just want to give up? To be constantly judged or _monitored_?"

At the end, Harry sounded so sarcastic and loathing that Nico almost thought he was inside his own twelve your old mind after he'd found out about Bianca's death. And, slowly, Nico realized that he and Harry were the same.

They had both gone through their fair share of troubles, but it didn't seem like Harry's were over yet.

"Yes."

Harry just stared at the dark space he assumed Nico to be standing in. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. Someone else had gone through the exact same thing he had? But surely they didn't have the pressure of Voldemort on their backs?

They couldn't know the horror of war or the fear of loosing everything in a single instant! Harry grew bitter.

"No you don't. You can't possible know," he whispered, choking back angry tears.

Nico stared at the outline of Harry's figure. He clamped his jaw, his eyes hardening. Something inside him snapped. His own resentment shook off it shackles and emerged from its cage.

"I lost my sister and some of my closest friends to that war, _damn it_! And I didn't even tell my sister goodbye before she was killed! So don't you _dare_ tell me that I don't know, because I do—better than you ever will."

Nico finished, panting heavily in absolute rage. Livid tears streamed down his eyes even as he tried to wipe them off. Even now, the Titan War was still a sore topic, especially the casualties. And unfortunately, what Nico said was true; he hadn't told Bianca goodbye before she was killed.

It was only after she was dead that he forgave her and Percy. But he still hated that he couldn't have apologized to her in the flesh. And as a result, he still wished Bianca was alive. Even the toughest of the tough break down at some point and when that happened, Nico longed for the loving arms of his family.

But that would never be.

Harry was silent.

War? Nico'd been through war? What war?

Harry tried to think of a recent muggle one but his mind drew blank. Even so, which war didn't matter so much. Just the fact alone that Nico had participated in a war was enough to appease Harry's disbelief. He knew he could try to deny fervently that Nico was lying but what would that solve?

Was he so selfish that he wanted to be the only one that had to suffer? Did he take pride in his hardships and losses? Harry felt sick. He looked up from the shadowed floor and towards Nico. The teen had probably suffered worse than Harry and the wizard couldn't believe he'd ignored Nico's attempts to relate.

"I'm sorry," Harry told the other boy, thinking of nothing else to say.

He knew that no one wanted to hear those words; no one wanted to be pitied. But there was nothing else to say.

Nico didn't respond immediately, stunned at the immediate acceptance. He tried to shrug it off.

"Don't apologize. It wasn't your fault."

Silence once again. Harry shuffled nervously in his spot before asking.

"Er—so did you win your…war?"

Nico froze, his mind reeling at the amount of information that he'd divulged about himself. He scowled.

_Oh well, what's done is done._

"At the price of many lives."

_Luke. Silena. Beckendorf. Ethan Nakamura—and so many more._

Nico grew silent once more, lost in the pain of the war—the war he swore he'd never think of again. Harry noticed Nico's apt silence and struggled to respect it, despite itching to know more.

He found himself wishing to compare Nico's struggles to his own, no matter how hard he tried to bat the selfish thought away.

"Er—"

But Harry had not a chance to say anything. The door slammed open, letting light flood in at a phenomenal pace. A bunch of wizards—Order members no doubt—rushed in faster than the eye could follow, all pointing their wands at Nico, all throwing suspicious glares toward him.

And Nico just watched them invade his room with a blank expression. The brown, bushy-haired girl from early stepped in right behind them, trying to stay small but catch Harry's attention at the same time.

Nico's gaze turned towards the wizards. They all circled around him, with their wands at the ready. They glowered at him and Nico reciprocated the look. He was not in the mood for this. In the background, he heard Harry asking what was going on, but he ignored it.

He knew what was happening and Harry should to. After all, he'd blabbed his false accusation to someone in this room.

Nico sighed as Moody hobbled in. The wizard was almost as paranoid as his father and Nico knew he would not get out of this situation unscathed. The man would likely try the truth potion on him again and secrets might become unwillingly exposed.

If that old man was somewhere within sight, maybe he'd have a chance. But his face was absent from the crowd of wizards.

So, grudgingly, Nico flipped over the wizards and dodged around Moody, all the while keeping one step ahead of their magic spells. Resigned, he disappeared around the corner of the hall and shadow travelled back to that alley in London. He'd have to find a way to complete his job another way.

Both of them.

* * *

At the minute Nico disappeared from Twelve Grimmauld Place, Albus Dumbledore arrived at the scene of the crime, wondering what had called him away from his office.

He heard much clamor coming from a room on the right side of the hall. He quickly walked the distance and froze when he realized whose room he was about to step into.

Nico di Angelo.

A feeling of dread began to well up in him. What had happened? He cautiously strode inside the room to find fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix all in an uproar with Harry in the center of it.

But Nico was nowhere to be found. Again the dread poked at Albus' senses. After realizing that no one had noticed his arrival—not even Alastor—Albus raised his voice.

"All of you! Quiet down, please!"

The chatter died down very quickly to Albus' satisfaction, but the amount of angry or depressed faces did not sooth his nerves one bit.

"Now, would someone care to explain what happened?"

The wizards shuffled slightly, looking uneasy and sheepish. Harry was glaring at the ground and the newly-noticed Hermione glanced periodically between him and the Boy-Who-Lived.

Albus wondered where a certain redhead and his family were, but he pushed that away. A possible problem needed his attention at the moment.

"Alastor?" he prodded, looking at the ex-Auror.

His expression was grave, but he nodded.

"Nico di Angelo has escaped once again."

Not bothering to correct him, Albus inquired, "How did this happen?"

Already, he could sense a misunderstanding and a huge dent in his plans. He mentally sighed.

This was going to be a long year.

* * *

**AN: **I finally met my deadline! I'm so happy! And I hope y'all are happy with this chapter, too. It was not meant to bash ANYONE btw! I tried to make it emotional to establish a connection between Harry and Nico. I hope it wasn't too poor of an attempt. XD So...thank ALL of you for the lovely reviews! I have decided that I owe it to you to start replying to them so I'll either PM you or tag it with the next chapter. =D So that's it other than...PLZ PLZ REVIEW!

~Peridot15:)


	8. Meeting With Evil's Representative

Albus Dumbledore sat in a chair in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix with a splitting headache. The explanation had been long and grueling as the Order members tried to shirk the blame.

"Should we search for the boy Albus?" Moody asked cautiously, knowing full well that he was toeing the line.

Albus shook his head.

"No. I'm afraid that would only rile him up as it was our fault for this untimely conflict."

Looking around, he was met with guilt-trodden stares.

Albus continued. "I have no reason to believe the boy has any relation with Voldemort—"

Multiple members flinched at the name.

"—or his followers. There is no need for anything drastic."

He shared a discreet glance with Moody.

"We brought this upon ourselves and the only way to apologize to Nico di Angelo would be to leave him alone and hope that he finds his way back to us. And if he does, we will be fully prepared to listen and make amends. Agreed?"

Albus looked around, already knowing that in their shame, the witches and wizards will agree.

"Agreed," they chorused almost instantly.

Albus nodded to them, mentally sighing. While he did not like these turn of events, this was the best decision he could make. Maybe with luck the boy would come back. He had made a promise to stay at Hogwarts as a guest but now, Albus was questioning the validity of the promise.

And he was tied up with Harry's hearing as well. This would have to wait unfortunately.

* * *

"War," Harry muttered. "He said he'd been through war."

The only other two occupants in the room peered at him in confusion. They understood that Harry knew more about this situation than most, as he was an active participant, but Ron and Hermione couldn't help but wonder at what their best friend was talking about.

"Harry?" Hermione probed. "What are you talking about?"

Harry blinked at them both, his eyes trailing over his friends, slightly distracted.

"Nico di Angelo. He told me he'd been through war just before the Order barged in."

Harry leveled out a glare to Hermione. The aforementioned girl turned red and looked down in shame as Ron watched on in confusion.

"Oh," Hermione voiced quietly, looking down at her feet.

"Harry, you know I just—"

"Can it, Hermione. I don't want to hear it," Harry interrupted. "I already know what you were trying to do."

Ron was getting annoyed. And so to end his silent treatment and bewilderment, he retorted, "But I don't. Can someone tell me what the bloody hell happened?"

Harry's gaze shifted to him. "Right, you were dealing with the boggart…"

And so he began the tale. At the end, Ron, too, was glaring at Hermione. Hermione had the decency to wallow in self guilt, especially after hearing Harry's side of the story.

"So then, what were you saying before, mate?"

Harry looked at Ron, noting that the boy's nervousness was peaking through.

"He'd said he'd been through war. And he said he'd been on the winning side, meaning that the war had ended a long time ago. But he can't be any older than us! So that would mean—"

"—that he had to face danger at eleven or twelve years old!" Hermione finished, her voice quivering in horrified shock. "Who would be so cruel as to do that to a child?"

Harry looked at her, expressionless.

"I wasn't even one when I had my first face off with Voldemort, Hermione. And I had only just learned about magic when we went to save the Sorcerer's stone."

Angry tears glistened in Hermione's caring brown eyes.

"But we have magic to help us! He probably doesn't—he's a muggle!" Hermione's voice broke. "It's just not fair. He's probably lost everything—his parents, his friends, his home! That was probably why he was found wandering around here! Why is life so cruel?"

Hermione was crying now, and Harry let his bushy-haired friend lean into Ron, who seemed torn between being delighted and somber at the gesture.

"I don't know, Hermione. I don't know," Harry whispered in response to her question, staring at the ground.

* * *

Life isn't fair.

That was one of the many sayings that guided Nico's life whether he liked it or not and, sadly, it had come into play here. Instead of landing in the alleyway like he'd originally planned, he'd stupidly allowed his concentration to be sidetracked.

And so with only a single thought back to his conversation with Harry, he was violently yanked through a different direction in the shadows.

His eyes widened and he hastily reached back for control, but by then it was too late. He was lost, strangely enough. And so he did the only thing he could do. He left through the first exit he came across which just happened to be a huge, old mansion spreading just as much horizontally as it was vertically.

The paint was faded and pasty as if the place hadn't been kept for years and weeds littered the yard like a minefield, causing Nico to mistake them for trees of the surrounding forest.

The haunted looking mansion seemed oddly out of place with a bright blue sky stretching over the horizon and birds singing in the distance. But that was the perfect disguise. And even though it was nice and haunted, Nico felt a weird vibe rubbing off of it. The place reeked of magic and dark magic at that.

Killings had been done here.

Nico's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Just where was he? But before he could take any step further, something hard hit him in the back. He stumbled forward, tripping over a gnarled root and landing on his stomach with a silent groan.

The impact seemed to push at his consciousness, stealing his will to see and hear.

All turned black and his limp body slumped on the ground, vulnerable for any to pick up.

* * *

Harry couldn't get his mind of his earlier conversation.

Nico had left something at Grimmauld Place. He'd left Harry with the burning determination to do something—to help, to save, to just _do _something to make a difference. Anger, dim though it may be, lunged at him periodically as he recalled how Nico was unjustly forced to flee—all on his mistake.

And for that, Harry felt indebted to the other boy. He felt like he had to set things right between them—to rectify his mistake. And after he'd talked to Ron and Hermione, the feeling had strengthened tenfold. Hermione had made a valid point that Nico had hinted at earlier.

The world was cruel and people are bound to suffer no matter the circumstances they are thrown or born into. Some suffer more than most, Harry realized that.

He had thought he had the worst luck in the whole entire world until he met Nico. The boy had opened his eyes. He'd revealed that the world doesn't revolve around him and his life, even if the Wizarding World might.

Muggles have their own problems and hardships and Harry would be damned if he dismissed them at a moment's notice. He would no longer ask, but rather give. And that was currently the reason why all the young residents of Grimmauld Place were arguing to add their two cents in the upcoming war.

They may be asking to fight, but it was to give their services. Harry, Ron, Hermione, _everyone_ there still in school was fiercely battling for the right to fight for their loved ones, their freedom, and their happiness.

"We have a right to stand up for ourselves, to fight for our community, our own happiness! Why do you forsake us of our right? Why can't we help? We may not be as experienced, but we can do little things that can make a difference. Please, let us. Please let us fight for what we believe in!" Hermione, brilliant as ever, declared as inspiringly as she could.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the twins were standing behind her, nodding in agreement. Hope spiraled throughout them. As Hermione said, they may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but even the smallest things can make the largest difference.

Sirius was smiling, agreeing with their every word. But Molly Weasley was bright red in anger and fear. She could not stand the thought of any more of her family risking their lives. She _hated_ war—how she _wished_ she could keep everyone she loved safe!

She didn't want to loose anyone anymore—especially not after her two beloved brothers!

"You're too young!" she shouted, her arms flailing in the air. "It's too dangerous and this isn't your war—not yet!" she cried, tears stinging the corner of her eyes.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He wished that were true. But he was involved since day one.

"Too young?" he questioned. "That didn't stop Voldemort from giving me this scar on my forehead! That doesn't stop him from attempting to kill me every year! And it won't stop us from trying to fight back! This _is_ our war—this _is _our time! And we have every right to fight for it!" he argued back, feeling himself soar with the support and cheers of his friends.

Mrs. Weasley's frame slouched, her tears poured faster, and her face doubled with anger.

"Not yet you don't! Why can't you just enjoy your youth and innocence while you can! Why can't you stay out of this war and let the adults do the fighting! You won't be young forever you know—"

"Be as that may be, Mrs. Weasley, our time for innocence is over. It was over as soon as we entered Hogwarts; as soon as we found out about the dark side of magic; as soon as Voldemort attacked us!"

Flinches rang out in the room but the argument continued.

"We know too many horrors of this world to be as naïve and young as you want. So we'd best start fighting early," Harry continued, adrenaline pumping through his veins.

His eyes glowed with a fiery passion that the audience found themselves falling over with awe as they experienced the young leader in action. Some were actually swayed to his side, but Molly Weasley was not among them.

And so the argument continued as it would for days until finally a compromise would be made.

* * *

Nico felt like a hammer was being repeatedly slammed into his skull. His body felt like a sack of potatoes, his limbs protested at being moved. It was like he'd been drugged, but _that_ he seriously doubted. He'd felt something like that before and it wasn't a tranquilizer dart.

_Magic. _

He opened his eyes, straining against his sluggish movements, and attempted to break out of his drowsiness. The light pierced his partially opened eyes—causing him to squint even more—but he saw enough. He was in some sort of dungeon cell that one would associate with an old castle.

The walls were old and musty, graying with age and piling up with mold. His back was pressed against the inside of a corner, giving him a spectacular view of the metal bars encaging him. A similar brick wall stood behind the other side of the bars, taunting him with its silence.

He closed his eyes again and groaned. Where was he? In the old mansion? Or in another old castle? And who had kidnapped him and why? Half-formed thoughts and questions swirled within his mind, leaving him to wallow in misery at his lack of knowledge.

This was the first time that he had no clue—no prediction—as to what might have happened. And he didn't like it one bit.

Grunting, he hauled himself to his feet. He winced as his back cracked and his shoulders throbbed. Just _what_ had happened when he was out? Testily, he took a step forward, trying not to lean too much on one leg.

His body _hurt. _

His hands groped along the walls, supporting his weakened body, until they reached the metal bars. His hands enclosed around the metal cylinders and he steadied himself. He took a deep breath and let go. He didn't fall over like an idiot.

Grinning, he took a step backward. But this time he stumbled a bit and landed hard on his elbows. The skin stung as it bled little droplets but Nico had faced a lot worse.

He ignored the blood and stood back up. His ankles protested at the added weight, but Nico continued on. He gritted his teeth and practiced walking, even though he felt silly doing it. But it came through for him in the end. He finally was able to walk as if he were no longer battered and bruised.

But that moment of triumph was taken away from him the second he heard the creak of an ancient, metal door. His head whipped around, his feet advancing quickly to the bars. He watched as a tall, cloaked figure advanced forth from the wooden stairs.

The figure hesitated only slightly once it came to the hallway of cells before it turned to the right—Nico's direction.

Nico narrowed his eyes and prepared to summon forth his sword. He would not be intimidated nor kept caged like a wild animal. He was not a prisoner to anyone, or at least he would not be much longer.

The figure's pale bare feet swept ever closer and its cloak lifted up revealing an evil smile underneath—but that wasn't all. Nico's eyebrows lifted in shock. He would recognize those red eyes anywhere, ever since that dream of his!

It was Tom Riddle A.K.A Lord Voldemort.

_It's my lucky day_, Nico thought sarcastically.

* * *

When Severus Snape had been called to a meeting with the Dark Lord, he had thought it would be just an average, uninteresting torture session as usual. He didn't expect to find the boy Albus was fawning over in chains at the Dark Lord's feet.

His eyes widened discreetly. What was di Angelo doing here? _How_ was di Angelo here? Snape once again narrowed his eyes and continued to line up with the other Death Eaters.

He slipped in between Lucius and Goyle giving a respectful nod to each. He then turned his attention to the Dark Lord, his curiosity taking leaps and bounds at the newest prisoner. He was rather thankful that he was in his Death Eater garb. He didn't want to chance getting recognized by the boy.

Not many on the side of Light knew he was a spy and he was going to keep it that way.

When all was silent and every Death Eater's attention on their master, Voldemort extended his cold gaze to them. His blood red eyes gazed at each and every Death Eater, even making some of toughest wizards shiver in their cloaks.

And finally, his gaze slid down to his prisoner being forced on his knees. His lip curled in disgust, but he seemed rather curious about the boy.

"Welcome, my followers," he announced in his high, cold voice. "Today, I have discovered an _enigma_—this boy." He paused, pointing at di Angelo.

The boy wriggled under the invisible weight, looking very unhappy. Despite the circumstances, Snape found himself quite amused.

"This boy passed through the wards today but he is a _muggle._"

The Dark Lord spat out the word in disgust and a few Death Eaters sneered. Snape felt a sense of déjà vu. This boy certainly had a knack for trouble, like Potter. His lip curled upwards in hate.

"A muggle shouldn't be able to pass through the wards made by wizards, their superiors. So tell me, my followers, how do you think this boy got in?"

No one dared answer for fear of the Dark Lord's laugh. He smiled coldly.

"Well?" he prodded.

A shuffle was heard as a Death Eater across from Snape squirmed.

"Permission to speak, my Lord?"

It was a new Death Eater, a pureblood that just joined the Dark Lord's ranks. But Snape couldn't remember the young fool's name. Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the Death Eater, who was frozen with fear.

But finally he replied with his eyes flashing, "Granted."

The Death Eater seemed to slump with relief.

"Could he have been let in, my Lord? Or is he a wizard, after all—"

That was a mistake and everyone in the room knew it. The young man cut himself off and looked at his master in panic, expecting the punishment. And Voldemort did not disappoint. His temper getting the better of him, his wand rose quicker than lightning and jabbed at the young fool.

_"Crucio!" _he yelled.

Snape watched as the beam of light hit the newest Death Eater. He didn't feel a wave of sympathy or pity as the young lad fell to the ground screaming in agony. This was his fault; he chose this path.

"Does anyone else have an opinion they would like to share?"

Silence.

The Dark Lord smiled violently. But that smile didn't last long, nor did his leniency.

"Who messed with the wards?" he hissed, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

His eyes flashed in rage when no one came forth. He slightly raised his wand and Snape saw some Death Eaters fidget. Voldemort stood up. He pointed his wand to a Death Eater standing to the left of Nico di Angelo.

"_You! You_ did it!"

The Death Eater quivered with fear and denied it, begging for mercy. But Voldemort wouldn't have any of it.

_"Avada Kedavra!"_ he bellowed, sending the green light hurtling at the unfortunate Death Eater.

His body slumped to the ground, dead. Voldemort's attention snapped back to his remaining followers.

"I will worm out anymore traitors but for now—_dismissed; all of you_!"

The Death Eaters scrambled to get out of the room and made their way out of the mansion, running like a bunch of scared rabbits. Snape sneered at them, but quickly made his leave as well.

Albus would want to hear about this.

* * *

**AN: I'm sorry it took me so long to update but the week before last I was visiting family with no computer access other than my phone which, sadly, does not have Microsoft Office. DX And the next I was volunteering at a camp all day and after that- boom! Its BIRTHDAY WEEK! XD So anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please, please review!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	9. Two Down, A Lot More To Go

Albus' face paled dramatically.

"Are you sure it was Nico di Angelo?"

Snape's lip curled upward.

"Yes, I am sure Albus."

Albus sat down in the chair with a grave expression.

"This is a very bad setback. Knowing Tom, he'll probably kill the poor boy without a second thought. This is terrible, terrible indeed."

Snape stared down at the old man with a scowl on his face.

"Why exactly is this boy so important, Albus? He's just a muggle that happens to know the existence of witches and wizards."

Albus sighed. "Severus, he's not a muggle—that I am certain of. But he's not a wizard either. So the question is what or who is he? I briefly entertained the notion of a squib but that doesn't explain how the boy passed through very powerful wards—which I hear he did once again—or how he destroyed those dementors."

Snape remained unfazed. "That does not explain why he is so important, Albus."

Albus nodded and continued.

"Whoever or whatever he is, he is a powerful ally—an ally whom I would not like to see in the hands of Tom. And he is around Harry's age. He could easily blend in with the group and no one would think a second thought. He could protect Harry much easier than one of us."

Snape frowned. "Be as that may, we have yet to establish how or what he'd do to protect Potter and his little friends. Why should you trust him?"

Albus smiled briefly, his eyes twinkling. "When you get to be as old as I am, you know who to trust."

Snape snorted. "In other words, you just want to unveil his secret."

Albus' eyes lost their twinkle.

* * *

"Nico di Angelo has been kidnapped by none other than Lord Voldemort. And so the question is, my friends, when and how should we send help after him?"

Harry had to clamp his hand over Hermione's mouth to keep her from gasping, even though he was having trouble himself. Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and he were gathered around the Extendable Ears, secretly listening in on the Order's meeting.

They hadn't exactly persuaded the adults to let them in on their organization yet, but they had high hopes with the arrival of Dumbledore.

"Is this information true?" Moody growled from behind the door.

Harry could almost picture the man crossing his arms with a scowl on his face.

"Yes, it is. It came from the inside source."

Moody grunted his disapproval. Harry shared a glance with Hermione, the same question on their minds.

_What inside source?_

"Nico di Angelo was supposed to be our fellow comrade before he was chased away," Dumbledore declared.

Even the twins almost squawked at that. A stranger was to be allowed into an organization that even they weren't—and _their_ families were! Nico di Angelo was no older than them! Hell, Fred and George were _older_ than him!

The eavesdroppers had to dig up all of their self restraint just to stop themselves from barging in there to start another shouting match.

"But Albus, isn't Mr. Potter's hearing tomorrow morning?"

Silence—from both sides of the door. Harry was stunned; he'd forgotten all about that what with all of this drama!

"Yes, the hearing is tomorrow. And that is why I am asking for your help. I fear if we wait any longer, Nico di Angelo will dead by tomorrow morning. That is why I am asking for your help tonight."

A feeling of uneasiness washed over Harry. Nico might be _dead_ by tomorrow? Screw his hearing! Instead of saving his butt why didn't they save Nico's life?

"_Tonight?_ I'm sorry, Albus, but surely you realize that we don't even have a third of our members here? We wouldn't last a second, especially not with the wards and protections. And to top it all, we have no idea where the location is."

Harry was horrified when he heard murmurs of agreement resounding from the other side. Could they do _nothing_?

Dumbledore sighed. "I believe our inside source could relay that information, but yes, you are right. We do not have enough people needed for a last minute operation. And while I do not wish to leave Mr. di Angelo in Fate's hands, we must for now. Tomorrow we will enact this rescue mission. Agreed?"

A chorus of agreement waved through the crowd. Chairs scraped against the floor as the members got up to leave. And they were not the only ones. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and the twins scrambled to get out of line of sight.

The twins grabbed the Extendable Ears and apparated back to their room as the rest of the group dashed up the stairs.

* * *

"We've got to help him."

No more beating around the bush; Harry was going to go right to the point. Hermione and Ron looked over to him, their expressions unreadable.

"But how? We can't go anywhere, especially _you._ You heard Dumbledore. Your hearing is tomorrow."

Harry scowled. He'd rather save a life than attend a bloody hearing that shouldn't have existed in the first place.

"She's right, mate. Your future's on the line here."

Harry shot Ron a scathing look.

"But my future isn't death—which could very well be the future of Nico di Angelo."

Ron had the decency to look sheepish.

"We want to help him, too, Harry. You're not the only one. But the question is—what can we do? We can't leave Headquarters and the Order is initiating a rescue mission tomorrow anyway. What can we do that's faster than a whole legion of wizards and witches?"

She had him, there. Harry sat down on the soft bed and thought. Hermione was right. They couldn't leave, so going there in person was out of the question.

_And, _Harry had to admit, _a bit reckless. _

So _what_ could they do? The answer evaded him. Harry scowled. His other two friends looked just as stumped. If only they could send someone else—someone with magic. Someone ski—Harry's eyes widened.

"Dobby!"

* * *

"_Crucio!"_

Fire erupted in his body, twisting and turning, burning and blazing. It was worse than anything he'd ever experienced. He felt his mouth opening as the pain sailed up and down his body, torching everything in its path. It was _agony—tortuous agony. _

_Burning…boiling…pain…_And suddenly it stopped.

Nico panted heavily, sweat glistening on his forehead. His posture—stiff and rigid—relaxed until he felt like jelly. His throat felt raw from screaming. He winced. Even the mere thought of that pain brought anguish.

His head struggled to rise as he tried to get a good glance at the wizard. He was grinning like the madman he was atop his throne. Nico summoned his strength and threw the man one of his infamous death glares. And to his satisfaction, the man flinched and backed up against his throne.

"I will ask one more time. _Who assisted you_?"

Nico's mouth tightened into a firm line. He would not answer this horrible excuse for a man. He refused to be intimidated by him! He would not bow down this man—this abomination! He only bowed to the gods and this person was clearly not a god.

This person was a mortal who dared to defy Death and by doing so, his father. He refused to even give him any respect! He deserved none of it! And so now he only needed to throw off the invisible weight forcing him to bow…

The wizard's eyes narrowed when silence reigned again. He threw another curse, battering and bludgeoning Nico, but Nico refused to answer him. He would fight back until his dying moment! But he should probably complete the task his father set him first…

"You will not hurt him! You will not hurt the friend of Harry Potter!"

Never in his life had Nico been so relieved to hear another voice. He couldn't turn around to get a good glance at his mysterious new ally, but considering that the voice was squeaky, he or she never underwent puberty or he or she was some kind of magical creature.

Nico's bet was on the latter.

Riddle's expression twisted with utter hatred and he aimed his wand somewhere behind Nico. He could see the menace in the man's posture, the curse that was about to come. Nico was about to shout to his rescuer when something miraculous happened.

The invisible weight on his shoulders disappeared in its entirety. He didn't know whether it was the work of the squeaky rescuer or even Riddle himself. But he thanked the gods nonetheless.

Nico stood up and stretched. He took no time to chance a look at his mysterious ally. They were in the midst of battle. He called forth his sword and relished in the expression of shock Riddle's face revealed when it appeared from a clump of shadows. But soon, that expression changed to bitter curiosity.

"So you are not a muggle then."

Nico smirked, but did not reply. He aimed the tip of the blade at the wizard, poking around the room with shadows. He almost had a complete layout. The wizard looked at the sword and smiled evilly.

"A mere sword cannot best me, the greatest Dark Lord the—"

But before he could finish, Nico charged forward. While taunts spiced up the battle, he just wanted to escape. He didn't exactly have all the time in the world to get rid of the wizard's horcruxes.

The man snarled and sent spell after spell at him. Streams of light filled the room, each being dodged by the sword wielding demigod.

"Is that all you have?" Nico taunted, looking around for the corner with the most amount of shadows.

Perhaps he could ask his ally to send a particular nasty spell at the wizard, buying just enough time for them to escape.

Riddle only sneered. His gaze turned to the door and he hissed. Nico knew he should have taken advantage of the moment but, for some reason, he couldn't. He seized up as a burning sensation spread throughout his body. His eyes narrowed.

_A horcrux is near._

Out of the darkness emerged a long, green, hissing python. Its tail curved and slithered on the floor; its forked tongue shot out warning after warning. And its eyes zeroed in on Nico. The man hissed again and the snake moved forward.

As the python came closer, the sensation doubled and tripled. Soon, Nico could barely focus. But he knew one thing—the snake was a horcrux. End it and that was one less he had to hunt for.

The only problem was that Riddle wasn't done. He shot another spell at Nico. But being in the muddled mindset he was, Nico didn't notice. It would have hit him had _something_ not interfered. Nico stared blankly at his mysterious, three-foot tall ally but slowly his rapt attention faded.

The creature threw squeaky words at Riddle and they started throwing jets of light back and forth. But Nico didn't hear it; Nico didn't see it. All he saw was the snake sliding closer and closer to him on the floor. And just as it was a hairsbreadth away, it attacked.

Its head launched towards Nico so fast, he barely had any time to react. And this time there was no one to interfere. Sharp fangs sank into his leg and he could do nothing to stand there wide-eyed as a burning poison erupted within the wound.

Were pythons even poisonous?

Despite the confusion, he could feel the poison's clutches tearing up his leg, searing his veins. And he couldn't do anything about it. He gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the agony piercing his body. He supposed though, in the midst of clenching his hands, that the poison awoke him, alerted him once more.

And as a result, his sword came crashing down onto the snake's scaly neck, ripping the head off the body. The head sailed over to the other battle going on and knocked Riddle in the head. He took one look at the head and screamed in outrage.

Nico knew it was time to leave. He lunged forth, grabbed his ally, and shadow travelled out of the place, very aware of the poison climbing up his leg.

* * *

Nico groaned as he picked himself up.

The poison was grating on his nerves. It was maddening feeling the searing pain crawl inch by inch up his legs. He toppled to the ground and clutched his leg. He had to get rid of the poison but how? And suddenly he remembered.

The ambrosia square!

He had an emergency bag somewhere in his pocket! His hands desperately fumbled around inside each and every pocket until, at last, he felt something plastic. Relief burst through him. He pulled out the baggie, opened it, and wolfed down half of the square.

He knew it was a success when he felt a warm sensation take over his body. The pain faded as the poison was quickly overwhelmed. He gave another sigh of relief, thanking the gods silently.

That was when he noticed a pair of big, green eyes observing him. He almost jumped, until he remembered owner of the eyes had saved him. Suddenly curious, Nico studied the creature. He (Nico assumed he was a he) had a small, round head on top of his three or four-foot tall body.

A long, pencil nose rested between his eyes and long bat-like ears outlined his head, making it look even smaller than it really was. But what really caught his attention was the amount of mismatched clothing the creature had on, especially the socks. The Aphrodite cabin would have a field day with this one.

"What are you?" Nico almost berated himself for being so blunt. That was considered rude—

"Dobby is a house elf, sir!"

The newly identified 'house elf' beamed. Nico blinked.

"So your name is Dobby?" he asked.

If possible, the house elf's grin widened.

"Yes, sir!"

Nico couldn't help but wonder if the elf was sugar-high. But then again he knew _much _more energetic people. He shuddered, thinking of _her_.

"So Harry sent you? And call me Nico, please."

'Sir' made him feel old, and while he was technically in his seventies—he sure wasn't mentally or physically.

"Harry Potter sent Dobby, indeed, Mister Nico!"

Nico sighed. That was as good as it was going to get.

He stood up, his legs still feeling a little tingly from the healing process.

"Well, thank you, Dobby."

He was about to head off when he thought of something else.

"Oh, and give Harry my thanks, will you?"

He smirked and, before Dobby could reply, faded into the shadows. It was time to hunt more of those abominations.

* * *

"Albus."

The aforementioned person turned his attention to Snape, who was unexpectedly called away to another Death Eater gathering that night.

"Yes, Severus?" Albus prodded, slightly curious and partly worried.

He had no way of predicting the news that his spy was about to deliver. Snape's expression remained constant.

"Nico di Angelo has escaped once again. The rescue mission is no longer needed."

* * *

**AN: I hope you liked it! I'm not really good at battle scenes so if it sounds a bit unreal...sorry about that. Also, I know pythons aren't poisonous but Nagini is a python...and she's poisonous. Yeah, you can ask J.K. Rowling about that. One last thing: the pacing will most likely speed up from here. Thank everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, or alerted this! You are amazing! =D And PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	10. The Adventure Continues

Nico cursed in ancient Greek as yet another false alarm sidetracked him.

His fingers were itching to punch something, his legs yearning to kick over a table. This was so frustrating! Day after day, week after week, month after month and he still hadn't destroyed them all! He kicked the wall, forming a new hole amidst the beat up plaster.

He subtly looked around, before taking his exit through the shadows. He landed back in the room of the old abandoned house he had recently found. The walls, shutters, doors, furniture—_everything_ was so musty, it was blinding.

The dust stuck to his skin and his eyes, making him want to sneeze half the time. It was supposed to be a motivation to find those horcruxes, but it wasn't working. And part of the reason why it wasn't working was because he had a faulty map.

Glowering down at the scroll in his hands, he took and threw it at the wall. It flew right through a meteor-sized hole, but Nico made no move to get it. Screw that damn map! He cursed. Instead of indicating locations of horcruxes, it pointed out souls and energies anchored to the human realm.

At first, Nico had thought it was the ultimate map, but now—a few months later—he was cursing its very existence.

It had worked the first few times—all in the span of a couple of weeks. He'd found a golden cup in some bank vault and a ring in another abandoned house that was in better condition than the one he was currently located.

He would have stayed in that one, had there not been nasty magic hanging in the air. And there was also the fact that it was a little close to Riddle's hideout. He knew he only had a few left, but he couldn't find them all because of a retarded map that won't work at all!

Trying to reign in his rage, he padded over to the hole and picked up the map. He incinerated it on the spot, his head thumping at the tiny quantity of hellfire he used. He'd wasted enough months trying to get the damn thing to work. It was either time he got a new one, or start searching freestyle.

Afraid that the new map may end up like the old one, he chose to go freestyle.

He closed his eyes and focused on extending his senses, feeling for energy that didn't belong. Truthfully, he had no idea if it would work, but apparently it did. He smirked, pleased, as he felt one—no, two—incriminating energies sullying his mental grid.

The best part was that they were in the same place. Sighing in much needed alleviation, he shadow travelled to the location, fingering his recently brought out sword.

* * *

Harry had to admit, when Hermione and Ron had first asked him to teach a bunch of students Defense, he thought they had taken a trip to the loony bin.

But now, seeing perfect Stunning Spells and amazing Reducto Curses, he knew his two best friends had come up with the best idea of the century. Dumbledore's Army, or the DA for short, was a stroke of genius that Harry had been blind to at first.

But now seeing Neville perform a stellar stunner, he couldn't help but smile.

All twenty eight of them were practicing in the Room of Requirement, and all twenty eight of them were making astounding progress—a feat that Umbridge would never accomplish in a million years. Harry felt himself soar at the fact that they all had one up over the toad-faced witch.

And so, in the midst of their practicing, nobody expected a visitor. Nobody thought that they'd be interrupted and revealed within a measly second. But it happened. And Ron, Hermione, and Harry found themselves speechless at the identity of the visitor.

They thought they'd never see him again!

Nico di Angelo appeared out of thin air, right in front of the entrance door to the Room of Requirement.

As soon as the first person noticed him, all motion halted. Every witch or wizard in the room gaped at the seemingly nonchalant boy. Nico just looked around the room, dismissing them immediately.

His eyes seemed attracted to the dark corners. When his search was over, he scowled. But then he noticed where he was. He blinked at all of the gaping faces, gave the room another glance over, and sighed.

"I'll come back later then."

With those last words, he disappeared right before their eyes, leaving the young pupils to stare at his previous location in amazement.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry—wide-eyed and gaping—muttered, "Nico?"

* * *

Nico scowled.

Just when he'd found the last two remaining horcruxes, he couldn't access them. Why? Because the apparent location was some sort of hocus pocus that could only be useful to one person or a group of people at a time.

So with a resigned sigh, he decided that he'd have to wait and come back later. Thinking back, he was certainly surprised that he saw a few familiar faces gaping back at him.

He knew they attended that wizarding school during the majority of the year, so was he at Hogwarts? That school the old man wanted him to be guest in? He shrugged.

Just his luck.

He knew he would be here for another day or so, but did that warrant a visit to the old man? He'd probably want him to stay indefinitely and Nico wasn't sure he agreed with that. But then again, his business was here.

And it was a very high possibility that taking care of those remaining horcruxes could take longer than he thought—just look at his past excursions. He smiled bitterly and continued to traipse through the stone castle halls.

The moonlight showered over him from a huge, glass window down the hall, lending him light. Nico knew most of the castle's residents were asleep so why weren't those students? Did they have some sort of secret organization?

An _illegal_ secret organization? Nico grinned.

It seemed Harry and his two friends were the leaders of the 'illegal secret organization'. He applauded their guts if his assumption was true, but he still recognized them as an inconvenience. He could have been in and out without a second's delay but now he'd probably be stuck here a few days.

A loud noise interrupted his train of thought.

He immediately shifted his weight and took a step back, his gaze directed to the floor. He'd stepped on a box—a cardboard box. It seemed to be filled with things, so Nico cautiously picked it up. It was rough and dented at the edges, but the content seemed mostly unharmed.

The lid was slightly opened, and Nico saw plastic packets hanging out. He tilted his head and decided to keep the mysterious box. He was feeling pretty lighthearted today. He tried to stuff it in his pocket, but it was too large, so he stashed it next to his sword in the shadows.

"Hey, you! What are you doing out of bed?"

Nico jumped, alarmed, and partly turned around. He could just make out the outline of an old, greasy man with a funny walk nearing him from the other side of the corridor. Eyes flashing, he sprang into action. He called to shadows and commanded them to take him somewhere else—anywhere.

But, when he looked back on this moment, he would regret not being more specific. The shadows swallowed him whole, sending pleasurable, icy chills along his body, before spitting him out in some unknown location.

Nico stumbled a little, before regaining his balance in some kind of…office?

He couldn't tell because on one hand, he saw a desk with writing utensils and stacks of paper. But on the other hand, he saw swarms and swarms of _pink._

He cringed.

He hated pink, absolutely despised it. This room—this pink, girly room—was an insult to his existence. Had he some black spray paint, he would have redecorated without a moment's delay. But now all he wanted to do was get out of this wretched room.

Still cringing, he prepared to leave.

Only he would have if not for a meow of a cat sounding behind him. Nico swung around, eyes narrowing, to see a moving calico cat on a dinner plate.

_What the Hades?_

But the meowing wasn't done yet. The cat started a chain reaction.

Other dinner plates with moving cats (_how_?) started to yowl and yelp at him—the intruder. Nico cursed and stepped towards the shadows to leave once more when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. He flinched, wondering why he didn't sense the person, and tripped on his own two feet like a retard.

He came crashing into the fluffy, carpeted floor—taking his assailant with him in the process. The yowling grew louder and a high pitched shriek echoed from under him. Suddenly, he realized that the soft fluff wasn't a carpet, but rather someone's clothes.

He immediately sprang up and knocked into the wall. The impact rattled the wall and therefore the portraits, causing them to fall down and shatter one by one.

Soon, the room was silent once more.

He heard another cry of outrage and instinctively called for his sword. That sounded somewhat like a monster's battle cry. But he not only grabbed his sword, but the mysterious box as well. The box tumbled out of the opening and fell just beyond his reach.

He tried to move fast enough to snatch it out of the air, but his assailant got to it first. He heard another screech followed by a splat—the sound of cardboard meeting skin. There was a moment's silence before the room lit up with a poof of multicolored smoke.

The smoke outlined a short, stout woman in fluffy pink nightclothes. It engulfed her completely before disappearing into thin air.

Through the dim light, Nico stared at the newly revealed woman—if he could really call her that.

She—or _it_ rather—had red, ugly boils dotted about its body. Its forehead—crowned by short and matted brown hair—was a scarlet red, as if it had a fever. But that wasn't it. The thing's skin turned a sickly green towards the bottom appendages, causing Nico to turn green himself.

He looked away—just in time to avoid a mass explosion of slimy goo. The green glob took noisily to the air, splattering all over the thing as well as the horrid, pink office.

Nico didn't know whether to look on in horror or whether to celebrate that the pink was gone.

Horror won out as soon as he saw smoke arising from the goo. It was burning holes into the plaster, turning the wall into a target practice area. Nico stepped back uneasily, wary and confused at the events transpiring.

Just what was in that box? Why did it do that? _How_ did it do that?

In all of his confusion, he forgot about the thing spluttering on the floor. Suddenly, it arose quicker than lightning and started screaming and screeching as it took in its surroundings as well as itself. The sound pierced his ears, making him wish to listen to a grinder for the rest of his life rather than its sputtering.

He sent away his sword and slapped his hands over his ears, his head spinning. He shouldn't have used as much power today. But suddenly, the creature stopped—and looked furiously towards him.

He cautiously backed up until he hit the ruined rubble of the wall. It moved towards him until the tip of its head was resting a couple of inches in front of his chest.

Its enraged gaze met his and it screeched, "You! _You! _You_ will _be_ punished _for this_! Headmaster!" _

* * *

Albus was having a nice, pleasant dream of socks when he heard an unearthly wail.

He immediately sprang up from his bed, tightly grasping his wand. His eyes narrowed in confusion and concern for his school. What if the students were in trouble? What if Voldemort had attacked the school? His eyes widened and he quickly dashed out of his quarters as fast his old legs would go.

He needed to call up the Order quickly. But then he heard the screech again sounding from his Floo, sounding slightly distorted.

_"—punished for this! Headmaster!"_

Albus froze. It was the livid scream of Dolores Umbridge. And it seemed she was yelling at a student. Albus frowned, wondering if Harry had managed to whip up more trouble, or perhaps the Weasly twins.

But without further ado, he quickly made his way to the woman's office.

* * *

Albus was shocked.

The Defense classroom was utterly ruined. Globs of a suspicious green substance coated the walls, little bits burning holes through the desks and the board. And it was deserted. The screeches and noises he heard resounded from the office—the office that had multiple holes, covered in the same green goo.

He and some other teachers that had awoken to the noise—Professors' McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick—cautiously crept to the scene of the crime.

As they came around the stairs into the room they were not surprised to find Umbridge shouting her mouth off at another student obscured from view. But they were surprised to find the woman shrouded in ugly boils and sickly green skin.

She looked like what she was thought to be—an ugly toad.

"Weasleys," Snape hissed with a sneer twisting his features.

The other professors had to muffle their laughter, relishing the woman had gotten a taste of her own medicine by what _did_ look like the Weasley twins' work. But they had to hide their amusement as soon as the woman noticed them.

Her eyes flashed and she stomped towards them yelling about how immature children should be punished. The professors looked behind her to see which student she was referring to and were stunned to find that she wasn't referring to a student at all.

She was referring to a rather freaked out Nico di Angelo.

Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Albus had to hide their bewilderment as they pretended to listen to the witch's tirade. Nico di Angelo, whom they hadn't seen in months and thought they would never see again, seemingly turned up out of nowhere.

But even amidst his befuddlement, an idea was quickly blooming in Albus' mind—a very ingenious idea. His eyes regained a twinkle once more.

"Madam Umbridge," Albus gently said, interrupting the woman from her angry yelling.

"_Yes?_" she shrilled, icily.

She did not look happy at being interrupted.

"Would you care to repeat what has happened here?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of Nico.

She bristled.

"This intruder _encroached _upon my office in the dead of night and _vandalized _my classroom and my office! He should be expelledfor this—"

"I'm afraid that he cannot be," Albus interjected.

Umbridge's lip curled.

"And why is that?" she hissed.

Albus smiled sadly.

"Because he is not a student of this school, I'm afraid."

Suddenly her eyes gleamed, all pretense of anger forgotten.

"Do you mean you allowed an intruder into the castle?" she purred, grinning nastily. Albus remained unfazed.

"No, madam Umbridge, I happen to know this young man. He was supposed to be a guest for this school year, but plans were seemingly changed."

He gave Nico a meaningful glance, which he ignored, watching the events with a wariness well anticipated.

"And the ministry was not informed of this—this development?"

Albus did not the glint in the woman's eye.

"We had not come to a proper decision when our contact was broken. Believe me, madam; I am just as surprised to find Mr. di Angelo here."

He sent Nico another glance.

"Mr. di Angelo?" she repeated, with a sour expression on her tomato red face.

Albus nodded, not quite looking at the woman. She frowned, seeming quite irritated.

"Even if he is not a student, he _must_ be punished for his _despicable _actions. I _will not_ tolerate this injustice towards a ministry official—"

And she was at it again. Albus resisted the urge to rub his head. He knew a headache was coming on.

"Then, perhaps," he cut in, "Mr. di Angelo should stay here and act as your assistant as well as work on repairing the damages he created."

Silence.

Albus could have heard an ant scuttling across the floor.

And then both masculine and feminine voices shouted, "_What?!"_

* * *

**AN: **I bet you didn't expect that! =P And I also hoped you enjoyed it! I tried to make it as funny as I could! So opinions? Was it hilarious? (Hint hint XD) Thank all my amazing reviewers, readers, followers, and people who favorited this story! As I have said before, ALL OF YOU ARE AMAZING! =D So as usual, PLEASE REVIEW! And I apologize for the long wait. School started back up. DX

~Peridot15:)


	11. Puke is Code For Pink

"Morning Ms. Umbitch. So what am I supposed to do?"

It was a weird name for someone to have, but Nico passed it off as a wizard thing. He wondered if all their names described who they were.

'Snape' sounded kind of like snake, which that weird guy reminded Nico of and 'Voldemort' meant 'flight of death' in French, so it was plausible—a shriek of rage broke through his train of thought.

"How _dare_ you call me that—that _obscene _name, Mr. di Angelo! I demand you take that back this instant!"

The woman entered his line of sight, still looking like an ugly toad hybrid, he observed amusedly. It appeared she nor any other professor could get the stuff off; Nico found himself hoping that it was permanent. It would be doing the world's people a great service by warning them of the Medusa among them.

The woman's fists were clenched and her face was so red from rage, Nico could barely tell she had nasty boils smattered over her skin. He averted his gaze and blinked at her—very confused—as he thought that was her name. Did he pronounce it wrong? Perhaps it was said like 'oom-bitch'.

"Uh…I thought that was your name…" Nico muttered, almost preferring to get pelted with bird poop than be in the presence of this woman.

When he looked back at the woman, he was surprised to see she had a sickly, sweet smile discreetly laced with venom replacing the rage on her face. Nico almost twitched. There was seriously something wrong with this woman.

"No, Mr. di Angelo, my name is not that vulgar label. My name is Dolores Jane Umbridge. Now say it with me, _Um-bridge_."

Nico didn't, which just seemed to infuriate the woman even more. He just stared at her and asked his question again.

She offered him another sickly sweet smile before replying, "Retrieve my bag, it's next to my desk—the now _ruined_ desk."

Nico nodded, ignoring her insinuation, and went to find the bag. He sighed woefully; he had to last an entire _year_ as an assistant to that crazy lady?

Once again, he decided luck was the worst.

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were still puzzling over the appearance of Nico di Angelo, even as they headed off to the most dreaded class of all—Defense Against the Dark Arts or DADA for short.

It wasn't the class itself but rather the teacher, who couldn't teach to save her life. And that was what led Harry, Ron, and Hermione to found the DA—to teach anyone what they couldn't get from Umbridge.

Because of this club, they and the other members stayed up and practiced any night available—all under Umbridge's nose of course. They had the sneaking suspicion that she knew, but as long as she had no proof, they were innocent until proven guilty.

So in the middle of their practice last night, they and their fellow peers found themselves shocked and confused when Nico di Angelo had crashed their session before leaving a minute later. Their fellow schoolmates were a little more anxious than them, as they'd never before seen Nico in their lives.

There were even some speculations that he was Umbridge's spy. But the kids who knew of the existence of the Order of the Phoenix knew better.

He was looking for something, something that he didn't find; that was what the three fifth years, one fourth year, and the two seventh years were certain about. But so many other questions drowned out that realization.

What was Nico doing all these months? How did he find the Room of Requirement while they were still in it? And most importantly, how did he get in Hogwarts without Dumbledore's knowledge? Or _did_ Dumbledore know?

Harry had debated with his two friends over whether or not to tell Dumbledore, but they all knew that meant revealing their club. And it was very possible Umbridge may get wind of it if they openly admitted it. So they couldn't tell Dumbledore, at least not without going through some extreme measures.

In the end, they decided to turn a blind eye. They didn't feel good about it, but for now, it was the best course of action. Besides, he probably already knew.

Sighing, Harry followed his two friends into the DADA classroom—and was utterly shocked. The classroom was shrouded with ruin and rubble, damaged to the point where even the most skilled witch or wizard would have trouble fixing it.

A simple _Reparo _would not clean this up, Harry could see.

The walls had holes and cracks splattered over its surface, some even creating new windows! The desks looked like someone had thrown a bucket of lava on them and the floors were covered in dust and plaster. It was an utter mess that left all of the students gaping.

Just _what_ had happened here?

The crowd of students thickened with Harry, Ron and Hermione in the middle—all of them gaping and all of feeling slightly joyful. Perhaps this meant they couldn't do DADA anymore?

A "hem-hem" broke them out of their train of thought, causing all of the students to look towards the front of the severely damaged classroom.

Their shock heightened even more as they caught sight of an oversized toad that resembled Umbridge. And then Harry realized it was Umbridge! Snickers broke out, Harry and Ron being the bulk of it. Hermione tried and failed to keep her amusement hidden.

They had heard rumors that something had happened to Umbridge, but they didn't know it was to this degree! Sneaking a peak at Umbridge, he saw she did not like that she was being laughed at.

She squared her shoulders and held her head high, about to say something when a low, masculine voice muttered, "She's finally awakened to her heritage, has she?"

Muffled laughter broke out as Umbridge's face turned from normal coloring to red and her boils turned purple. She could have passed as an alien—a very ugly alien.

"Who said that?" she purred nastily.

The laughter died down into snickers, but other than that, no one said anything. Harry grinned. This might actually be the best DADA class of the school year!

When Umbridge received no response, she huffed and said, "Since this classroom is temporarily unusable, we will be moving to an old one down the hall. Please follow me and remember to continue going to that classroom until I say otherwise."

She started to walk past them and out of the ruined classroom, expecting the students to follow her. Hesitantly, the fifth years begin to trail her through the winding hallways and staircases—down a floor or two as well.

And finally, the group arrived at their destination—a musty, old classroom where Hermione would probably practice spells. Umbridge went in first, stalking to the front of the room, and allowed her class to take seats at the dusty desks arranged in perfect rows.

Harry and his two friends took seats near the back, beating everyone else before they could vie for the chance. Scowls formed on the faces of the students unlucky enough to have to sit in the front, with a close view of the toad woman.

When everyone was settled, she smiled her signature smile at them and said, "Please take out _Defensive Magical Theory_ and continue with the next chapter. Look up when you are done. That is all."

The class grudgingly acquiesced and spent the next fifteen minutes or so reading the next chapter of the retarded book.

Harry had just finished, ten minutes after, when he heard, "What took you so long, Mr. di Angelo?"

Harry's eyes widened and he followed Umbridge's gaze to a spot behind him. Could it be? Nico? Was he involved with Umbridge after all? And no, not that way! Harry almost puked at the thought.

"Well, I had to attend to your bag."

At the sound of Nico's nonchalant voice, the other fifth years followed Harry's example—members of the DA widening their eyes with fear. They recognized him. Their worst fear was confirmed. He was Umbridge's spy, or so it seemed.

They watched the exchange with hungry eyes, panic suffocating their minds. What if he'd told Umbridge? What were they going to do then? Nico, on the other hand, didn't spare anyone a glance as his attention was centered on the toad right now.

"And why did that take as long as it did?" Umbridge asked thinly.

A small smirk graced Nico's face. He took out something from behind him—a puffy, rectangular suitcase. At first, it appeared solidly black, but Nico flipped it around, revealing a large skull design resting squarely in the center. The corners of Harry's lips edged up.

"There was something on your bag, Ms. Umbridge, so I cleaned it up for you."

When Harry turned his attention back to Umbridge, he saw the terrible realization dawning on her. Her beady, little eyes narrowed and her lips pressed together in a thin line.

"Mr. di Angelo," she began icily, "_that_ is not my bag. Where is my bag?"

Harry tried and failed to contain the smile forming on his face—Nico had the same problem.

"Ah well, actually this _is_ your bag. I just gave it a wash. Of course, I didn't think you _liked_ the puke on it. If you really want it back I'm sure if I stare at you long enough, I'll be able to return your bag to its puke state."

Snickers flitted across the classroom despite the earlier panic the majority of the students were harboring. They found themselves relaxing; this boy obviously got along with Umbridge as well as they did—he was no spy. The toad's face turned red with rage for the third time that day.

"Mr. di Angelo," she began through gritted teeth, her expression livid. "That was not puke, it was pink—"

"Oh, that was what it was? Whoops."

Nico smirked, taking note that she didn't comment on his opinion of her. Trying to be _civil_ was she? Umbridge stood in her spot sizzling with anger.

"Why is there a skull on it if you only _washed_ it?" Umbridge ground out through clenched teeth.

"Because it needed a new design; I also fixed your office up, too. I don't know how all that puke got in there—oh wait. That wasn't puke either, was it?"

Umbridge snapped at the mention of her office. She clenched her fists, her lips forming that sickly sweet smile of hers.

She shined it at Nico, oblivious to the quiet laughter around her and said, "You and I need to have a talk, Mr. di Angelo. I will meet with you after class."

Nico's smirk widened and he replied, "Okay, where?"

But she ignored him and turned her attention back to her highly amused students.

She narrowed her eyes, set her shoulders straight, held her head up high and asked, "What is so funny?"

* * *

Nico had a fun time 'cleaning' up the toad's office and bag.

At first, he had to spend ten minutes trying to stay in the room without puking, but he had managed it—though of course it was only because of the ruin. Had the paint been any brighter, he would have puked on the spot.

He had somehow acquired red and black spray paint (it's a secret) and had used it accordingly. He gave the woman's stuff a major makeover. He first covered her disgustingly pink bag with black and painted the skull on there with a smirk lighting up his face the entire time.

After that, he went about fixing her office. He used the shadows to clear away the rubble and fix the ruin, but it was his hands that he used to change the wall's paint color. When he was done, he felt like smiling at his gothic masterpiece. This would definitely infuriate the woman.

But he knew he had to help the toad in her classes sooner or later—he'd put it off long enough. And so after that reunion with not only the toad but Harry and his friends was achieved, he sat at the back of the classroom, as bored as he'd ever been. And he'd been to the Fields of Asphodel!

His vision dulled and his eyes slipped shut as he attempted to fall into a deep slumber. But the high pitched voice of the annoying woman kept intruding upon his ears. He twitched and glowered at her. She was so annoying and irritating. He wished he didn't have to do this, but Dumbledore had been clear.

Nico would have been ousted from the school without this 'job'. He grimaced, his foot tapping the floor.

Curse his ADHD. Curse his luck. Curse everything! He needed to do something! He couldn't just sit around like a sack of potatoes; he needed something to keep him occupied.

Fortunately (or unfortunately?), Umbridge took notice of his apparent jumpiness. A wicked grin settled on her toad-like face.

"Mr. di Angelo," she started, "would you like to do me a favor?"

Nico raised his eyebrow. What was she going to say?

"Go on," he said slowly, eying her suspiciously.

She smiled sinisterly at him.

"Would you come and write this chapter on the board for the class? We have to go over it and what better reference for all of us than the board?"

She giggled like a school girl, as if her idea was the best in the world. Nico narrowed his eyes.

_Damn, I shouldn't have accepted…_

But he couldn't say no, could he? He was the assistant unfortunately.

He grunted and trudged to the board, where the woman stood waiting with the chalk and book. She passed them over to him with that sick smile of hers and turned back around, 'chatting' with her students. He turned his attention to the book.

His eyes widened and he cursed. This wasn't short! It was way too long! And not to mention he couldn't read one word before it started to float off the page! He silently cursed again. He'd forgotten all about his dyslexia! But he couldn't tell the toad that; he didn't want to give her one over him.

So, what could he do? The chalk hovered over the board as his mind groped for an answer. He sent another glance at the book and sighed. He'd have to improvise…or wait…did he really? A grin made its way over Nico's features.

Perhaps he could write—or rather draw—a chapter after all.

* * *

Harry watched Nico, paying no attention to Umbridge.

What was he doing here? How and why was he Umbridge's assistant or helper of all people? And did that mean that Dumbledore had a plan about how to get rid of the ministry spy?

He shook his head—so many questions but so few answers. He sighed. He was getting nowhere. But even so, watching Nico write on the chalk board had more merit than listening to Umbridge's "theory based lesson".

He almost snorted. It was a stretch to even call it a lesson. And, looking around the room, he knew his fellow classmates agreed. Blinking and trying to keep his eyes open, Harry's attention focused back on Nico—a now smirking and chalk-less Nico.

The chapter was apparently completed.

Slightly interested and with nothing better to do, Harry skimmed the board. He almost choked on his laughter, trying to hold it back. Umbridge paused to give him a glare, but the other students gave him their focus.

Seeing the direction his eyes were looking, they too turned to see what was funny enough to make the Boy-Who-Lived laugh. They almost choked on their laughter as well. But it was hard not to with what the board depicted.

At the top read, _Professor Umbitch's Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts._

That alone gave the students a lighter feeling. A picture took up residence on the remaining part of the board.

A side ways view of a toad-like figure that resembled more of a boil-infested blob was drawn on the right side of the board, smiling sickly and saying 'hem-hem'.

On the left side of the board—Harry snickered—were a bunch of thug-like stick figures running away yelling, 'Ah! It's Medusa! Run away!'

Snickers broke out as more and more students gazed at the board—hell, Harry even heard muffled laughter. A grin latched onto his face; this was probably the best DADA class they'd had in a long time!

After what seemed like eternity, Umbridge finally caught the subject of their laughter. With a grim look on her face, she turned around and promptly shrieked in rage.

"Mr. di Angelo!" she screeched, her angry gaze cast around the room, but Nico was nowhere to be found.

* * *

_That was a close call_, Nico thought as he stepped out of the shadows, grinning.

He couldn't believe it took that toad thirty minutes to figure it out! She really was an idiot! His grin widened and continued to weave his way through the halls. The Room of Requirement was not being used.

He could go there now; he could destroy the horcux. Umbridge obviously had no more need of his 'assistance'.

With a smirk, he continued to his destination.

* * *

"My lord," Snape greeted, bowing down before the indifferent man on the throne.

His gaze slithered to the Dark Lord's barren feet, waiting to be called to rise once again.

"Ah, Severus, any interesting news for me? Rise."

Snape followed the wizard's orders and straightened up, but he didn't dare look the wizard in his blood red eyes. He dipped his head.

"I do, my lord."

His mind started recalling the past events, piecing together a response for his other master. _Reveal Nico's appearance to him_, Dumbledore had said. Snape almost sneered.

How would that benefit anyone?

Nico di Angelo is a mystery to everyone but he could be solely the mystery of the Order. They could figure out the boy's secret and use it accordingly. So why did Dumbledore insist on telling the Dark Lord, other than for trust reasons? But nonetheless, Snape spoke.

"The muggle that intruded upon this hideout is there. He has found his way to Hogwarts."

* * *

**AN: Sorry this took longer than usual! School is stressing me out at the moment. I hate my teachers. _ I think they're out to get me. But who cares, eh? XD I hope you enjoyed it, maybe even laughed some (hint hint). This may be a bit of a filler, but its a FUNNY filler. Right? Right? XD Lol. Please review!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	12. Plots and Powers

A horrid shriek shook the building, causing Nico to drop what he was doing immediately and cover his ears.

Good grief, did a banshee get into the castle?

But then he heard a trail of curses following the scream. He smirked. Nah, it's just Umbridge. The old bat must have reacquainted with her office and from her _lovely _scream, Nico just knew she _loved_ it! With a considerably lighter mood, Nico continued to push his sword into the diadem—Ol' Tom's horcrux.

Another scream soon joined Umbridge's.

Six down, one to go.

* * *

Voldemort was not having the best week and the news of that boy's arrival didn't help one bit.

He knew he wasn't a muggle if summoning that sword out of thin air was real. So that left the question of what he was. He was no wizard or else he'd have a wand on him. And Voldemort had found no such thing.

So _what?_ What was that brat?

It infuriated him beyond belief to not know such a simple piece of information. He wasn't even sure the boy was human! He scowled, darkness enveloping his aura.

The boy had killed Nagini, his pet as well as his horcux. He'd gotten past his wards and worst of all he was seemingly in contact with Dumbledore as with his appearance at Hogwarts!

Voldemort wanted to throw something at the moment; perhaps even have a temper tantrum. But he was too dignified for that. So he kept his anger reigned in for now and tried to think rationally about his situation. The boy would have to wait; he had other matters to worry about.

His followers were currently working on gaining his old allies so it was useless to ponder over that. No, he needed to plan his retrieval of the prophecy. He needed to know the exact phrasing in order to properly defeat Harry bloody Potter.

The boy was a thorn in his side and would soon be an anchor if he didn't do something about it.

Months ago, when Nagini was still alive, he had thought about sending her to retrieve the prophecy. But then that damn brat had interfered and killed his tool.

He scowled. It always came back to that boy.

That boy and Potter.

He needed to do something about those two, get rid of them before they hurt his plans anymore. But the question was how? How could he do it and achieve his aims at the same time? How could he win?

The answer that followed seemed so obvious that he almost hit himself for his own stupidity. If you can't kill them, make them join you. Voldemort smirked evilly. Or in this case, use them. But he'd have to get a few more supporters, especially at Hogwarts.

He had Severus, yes, but the man was for more urgent matters. Perhaps if he had a student.

Hmm…Malfoy's son?

_O__h yes, he will be perfect… _

Then all he would have to do was watch and wait. After that, he would strike and let the gold to flow.

* * *

"Er…hi Colin." Harry said.

Nico stood pressed against the walls of the red and gold pathway leading into the Gryffindor Common Room where Harry and his friends resided on a similarly themed couch and table.

He was just about to walk in when the brown-haired kid approached them, camera in hand and a big, fat grin on his face. The trio of friends saw him and shared uneasy glances. Nico tensed.

He'd seen that look before…

Colin's smile widened in excitement. "Hi, Harry! Mind if I get a few pictures? It's for this new—"

"Uh, thanks but not now, Colin. Maybe…later?" Harry interjected awkwardly. Colin seemed a little disheartened, but nodded.

"Okay…"

Nico froze.

_"Um…hey, Nico." The group of girls looked at him uneasily, their friendly air diminishing. Nico frowned and opened his mouth to speak. Before he could get a single word out, however, a daughter of Aphrodite said, "Well…we have to go now. See ya."_

He scowled, heavy dejection stabbing him. Oh, that's right. He remembered now. Reality had never been kind to him.

He'd never done well when it came to friends or crowds—to people.

He simply didn't belong.

Wasn't wanted.

The only true friend he ever had was Percy and even then that could be a bit of a stretch. Percy had taken him in as if he was a charity case and even though the son of Poseidon may not think so, Nico sure did.

Every time Nico approached someone that knew about him or even someone that didn't, they tended to shy away or get really awkward in his presence. He hated it. It was why he avoided people; it was why he avoided society, avoided crowds.

Avoided making friends.

Nobody seemed to be prejudice free and the minute they saw his dark, lanky figure, they closed up like a zipper on a jacket. It was either that or they ignored him completely.

And he didn't make an effort to change that.

The only times when he interacted with other people was when a crisis or a conflict needed to be dealt with. His help was needed then. But after everything was resolved, it was as if he never contributed—as if he was never there.

A ghost.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the wave of anguish crashing over him. He was and always had been better off alone. That way no one could hurt him, but then again no one could comfort him either.

And now he'd just been reminded of that fact.

Just because he was back in time didn't mean that the people didn't have the same ways as in the 21st century. It _was_ only a twenty year difference after all. He threw one last sorrowful glance at Harry and his friends.

Then he angrily shoved the thought out of his mind and slunk back into the shadows—the lonely, cold embrace of darkness.

* * *

A few weeks passed until Christmas break was finally upon the school. One day until they could all go home and spend time with their family. One day until they could sleep in. Just one more day until their Christmas celebration could finally begin!

Nico, however, didn't share the same sentiments. He'd been sulking for the past few weeks, existing but not really living. He hated the feeling. He hated how he had to just stand there and brood.

Why couldn't he just move on?

Watching from the shadows now, he could see. He could run, he could hide, but he could never fully heal.

Not unless he found a good dose of happiness to liven him up. He'd hidden his thoughts and feelings for the past weeks, locking them up, and taking out his frustration by enacting pranks—pranks that probably crossed the line.

But if they were aimed at the school's common enemy, who cares? Nico really didn't; it proved the same in the end. Everyone was laughing but him. Everyone was happy but him.

_What _did he have to do to change that?

"Mr. di Angelo?"

A voice broke him out of his moody thoughts. His head snapped up and identified the perpetrator as no other than Dumbledore.

"Yes?" he asked, not really paying attention to the elder man.

The aforementioned man noticed and frowned. He'd seen Nico moping around for the last few weeks—no matter how well he'd tried to hide it. And that simply wouldn't do. It pained Albus to see youth in this sort of mindset—he had experienced it a _long_, long time ago. He knew it wasn't easy.

"Would you like to join the Order for Christmas holiday? I understand you have nowhere else to spend it, yes?"

Nico tensed, before slowly nodding.

_The truth hurts, doesn't it?_ He thought to himself bitterly.

And besides, maybe he'd get over himself there. But somehow he doubted it. They'd just treat him the same way as everyone else did—as an outcast.

Dumbledore smiled gently, sensing the boy's plight. Hopefully, he'd find a cure during the break.

"Excellent. Just follow Harry and the Weasleys'; they'll be joining you as well."

* * *

"Finally!" Ron Weasley shouted happily, grinning at his family and friends.

Nico watched from the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for all of them to walk in. He didn't want to get caught up in all of the drama. He just wanted to find his room and sleep the day away. Not only would it help build up his reserves—it'd give him an excuse to escape reality.

As the group of witches and wizards unleashed themselves upon the hidden building, Nico furtively snuck around, looking for an empty room. He found the one that he had last time and plopped onto the bed, instantly falling into a long, deep slumber.

His first day went by like that.

But soon his boredom got the best of him and he went out. He heard the joy thriving around him once again before shadow traveling out of the place. It wasn't like they missed him anyway. They didn't care. While he was in the dark, they were in the light, celebrating Christmas.

He heard songs being sung, decorations being hung, and even banter amongst the occupants. Who cared if the depressed, gothic kid was missing?

So he explored London, in an effort to distract himself.

It worked mostly, for hours on end—if he was alone. When he'd first tried to explore a shopping center, he was brutally reminded of his feelings every time. In response, he'd chosen to visit the graveyards.

Maybe the spirits of the dead would like to spend time with him.

But soon, that got pretty old, too. Especially after he'd explored a cemetery in some place called Godric's Hollow. The amount of graves there was too depressing, even for him. Finally, he gave in and returned back to the building.

He was sneaking down on early Christmas morning to get a glass of milk or something when a voice stopped his progress.

"You're…Nico, right?"

Nico whirled around, foregoing the drink. Someone had caught him red-handed. Damn.

It was a man—a tall man with handsome, aristocratic features. He had long, silky black hair that surrounded striking grey eyes—grey eyes that housed a sorrow only known from war.

Nico softened; he could relate to that. The man's face was haggard and worn out, as though he'd gone through devastating, rough times. And he probably had.

"And you're…Sirius?"

The man gave a strained smile, before nodding.

"So what are you doing up this early, Nico? Trying to get all the good stuff before it's cleaned out?" The man asked, trying to joke but his tone seemed a little forced.

Nico narrowed his eyes. What was Sirius doing down here? And why was he talking to him as if Nico'd been celebrating with them the whole time?

Better yet, what was _Nico _still doing down here? Didn't he want to avoid any interaction for the time being? But Sirius seemed…different—as if he was going through a similar thought process Nico was.

In response to Sirius' question, Nico shrugged.

"I could ask the same to you."

Sirius' jovial mask faltered just before collapsing completely. He sighed. He had a sad, far away look in his eyes and he seemed to be debating over something—probably whether or not to tell him, Nico realized. This man was a kindred spirit then. Sirius shook his head.

"Forget it. You probably don't want to hear some stranger's sob story."

He got up to leave, but Nico stopped him. He had this weird urge to hear what the man had to say, something he hadn't felt for years. What was happening to him?

"Go on," he goaded.

Sirius looked at him with those world weary eyes before sitting back down in a wooden chair.

A moment of silence existed between them before Sirius spoke, "There's nothing in this place. Nothing but bad memories. I swear I'm going to go crazy with only a house elf that I'd rather see six feet under and a banshee of a mother who's supposed to be dead and buried! I'd thought it would get better with everyone coming but…they'll leave soon to live their lives. Everything good always comes to an end."

He sighed.

"And I'll still be here, under house arrest. Trapped and confined. You know the feeling?"

He laughed humorlessly. "No, you probably don't."

Nico felt a pang resound through his body.

Hurt. Pain. It was all there.

Feelings that he hated to feel, even if it was for another person. He thought back to when he couldn't go with Bianca on that quest all those years ago. How resentful he'd been that he couldn't be trusted to help out any at all. How…helpless. His eyes narrowed.

"You feel helpless when they leave and go out into the world? Then, yes, I know the feeling," he replied bitterly.

Sirius blinked at him for a second, before relaxing a little bit.

"Exactly."

He sighed, the look in his eyes hardening.

"I can't do a damn thing all because of some crime I didn't commit! I sit in those Order meetings thinking, when will I get a mission? But I know, _everyone_ knows, I'm never going to get one—not while I've got a death sentence hanging over my head!"

He growled.

"If someone snagged one glance of me, I'm done for. And because of that, no missions for me. All I can do is sit here and do nothing—deadweight. I _hate_ that. I wish I could move around, go somewhere! Do something! I didn't even get to visit James' and Lily's graves before—"

He stopped and looked away, pressing his lips in a hard, firm line.

"I'm useless," he finished with, closing his eyes. "The Order's probably better off without me."

Nico's eyes flashed in anger and he stood up abruptly, his eyes narrowing.

That word…he hated that word.

"_Don't say that_." he snapped. "Then you'll _actually_ start to believe it! You'll loose all confidence in yourself and then you really _will_ be useless! As I understand it, _you_ provided the Order or whatever with a Headquarters, right?"

Sirius clenched his fists. "Yes, but they could have found that on their own. They're just here for the sake of convenience—_my_ convenience. They would have found another eventually."

"Don't think like that," Nico said, gritting his teeth.

He didn't know what it was about this man that ignited his fight so much, but he found himself wanting to help him. Was this what Percy felt when he'd been chasing him around in the Labyrinth back before the war?

"You _are _a member contributing to the war effort—no matter how small it may be. And donating a headquarters is a pretty big contribution isn't it?"

Nico paused to stare hard at the man.

"_Every_ member counts. _Every_one can do something, _every_one can make a difference. It doesn't matter how small or big that difference can be because even the tiniest difference can tip the scales. Who knows? Perhaps by sitting here, ready for any action, you'll be the fastest to react to an immediate crisis. So _do not_ underestimate your worth."

Eyes burning with passion, Nico looked at Sirius once again. The man was shocked, but he seemed to get the message. His frown was no longer present, replaced by a thoughtful expression. And suddenly, the man smiled and stood up, looking at Nico.

"You're right, kid, even though I don't know how you'd know that."

He gave Nico an odd glance before averting his eyes with a hint of yearning.

"Still, I wish I could move around. I hate being confined to this place—so many bad memories. So you better watch out, I might go insane any minute."

He offered a bitter smile.

"I haven't even visited the graves of Harry's parents…my best friends. If I could just do that, I'd let my dream of travelling go."

Wistfulness sprung up on his face. They both fell silent, lost in their individual thoughts. But finally, Nico spoke.

"Where are the…graves?"

He sounded hesitant and unsure of himself. He wasn't good with emotional situations. He couldn't even handle his own. Sirius looked up at the ceiling, remorse as plain as day in his expression.

"Godric's Hollow…" he murmured.

Nico's eyes widened. He should have guessed. That had a pretty big amount of graves—an amount that he'd usually match with war casualties. He shifted uneasily, feeling awkward about what he was about to offer. Why was he going to do this? He didn't even really know the man!

"I could…take you there." Nico tentatively said.

The man's features morphed into shock, hope spiraling in his eyes. But it was gone as soon as it came.

"How?" he asked. "I can't be seen and you can't Apparate out of here. Heck, you're not a wizard so you couldn't anyway. What are you going to do? Smuggle me there? I doubt you even know where the cemetery is. Forget it, kid. As much as I would like, I-" He broke off and shook his head.

Nico ignored the insult and pressed on, "I don't need to have magic to get things done."

He glared at Sirius, causing him to flinch.

"And why would I say anything if I couldn't do this?"

Sirius wavered. "You have a point, but…"

Nico continued, "I'll take you on one condition. Swear on the River Styx that you won't tell anyone about what you see me do."

Sirius raised an eyebrow.

"River…sticks? And what, is it illegal or something?"

Nico stared at him with a hard expression.

"No, River _Styx. _And you can swear first and find out later. Your choice. I don't have to do this, you know…" Nico trailed off.

He probably shouldn't be doing this. He should just go upstairs and pretend like this never happened.

Sirius fell silent, mulling it over.

But, finally, he sighed and replied, "Alright, I swear on this River Styx of yours that I won't tell anyone about whatever you're about to do."

Thunder rumbled in the distance and Nico nodded. The oath was completed. He grabbed the man's wrist, smirking maniacally as Sirius eyed at his expression warily.

"What are you doooo_iiiiing_—" He broke off into a yell as Nico shadow travelled them both out of the building.

* * *

They landed in Godric's Hollow, just on the outskirts of the dreary cemetery. The shadows started to recede and Sirius watched them, his expression aghast and stunned.

"H-how? What _was_ that?" he asked, eyes as wide as saucers.

Nico found himself grinning and replied, "My way of transportation."

He knew these wizards had a bad view of anything dark and Nico was pretty sure 'shadow' fell under that label. And even if the man couldn't reveal any of this to anyone, he still wanted to be careful. Shock turned into curiosity and then into childish excitement.

"Wow that was pretty cool! No wonder you got into the Headquarters so easily. Can I learn it? Imagine how many things you could get away with!"

Nico's grin turned into a smirk—a prideful smirk. He shook his head.

"It's not something you can learn."

Amusement circled in him as he watched the comic way Sirius' face fell. But Nico saw a smile in the man's eyes.

"Well that sucks. Apparating is much worse. I'll take cold over being squeezed to death anyday. But it's not like I can Apparate anywhere though…"

Nico hurriedly stepped forward and unlocked the gate before the man could brood. He ushered Sirius in—said man glancing around the rows and rows of graves until he spotted the very two he came here for.

His demeanor grew sad and bitter as he took each step closer. He knelt down to each and just stared. Stared glassy-eyed at the gray tombstones of his two dead friends. Nico was starting to regret bringing the man here. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea, especially on Christmas morning.

Even if he didn't celebrate Christmas and didn't care either way, Sirius did. He really needed to start considering other people's feelings. But the man _agreed _to this, so he wanted to—Nico shook his head of the thoughts. There was no use pondering over his choices.

What's done is done.

The man's posture was tense and he seemed one step away from completely breaking down. He was muttering under his breath and tracing the tombstones, caressing them even. It was creeping Nico out.

The man really missed them didn't he? Well then, he'd probably rather see them in the flesh than six feet under—Nico's eyes widened.

Did he dare? He felt inclined toward it, but should he? For a man he barely knew? He looked at the cold, withering plants on the ground, considering. Bianca would do it. Percy would do it if he had the power. But did that mean _Nico_ should?

The man felt like a kindred spirit yes, but did that mean he should help the man? He knew Sirius was Harry's godfather and that helping him would help Harry—and possibly all of the Order members. It might even affect their war.

Should he play the Fates? But then again, perhaps he already was. He looked at the man who shared his feelings and decided.

He walked forward.

Sirius wouldn't be able to tell anyone what he was about to do, so he'd still be keeping his secret. Although…if he was to do it, he'd need food and drink—or at least a bottle or two of liquid.

Where would he find that?

He knew there was a store somewhere around here, but that was too much trouble and he didn't even have much money. Perhaps he could go back to Twelve Grimmauld Place? Nico frowned, briefly closing his eyes. He'd have to hurry.

He sighed. The man had better be grateful for this.

He stopped midstride and quickly shadow traveled back to Headquarters.

* * *

When Nico came back with several bottles of water, Sirius was still in the same spot, unmoving.

Oblivious to his surroundings.

It was almost like he was in a trance; Nico only hoped it wasn't a coma. He walked up to the man and shook his shoulder, snapping him into reality. He looked up at Nico before shakily standing up.

"Well, I've seen them." Sirius paused, sorrow drifting into his expression. "We can go now."

But he sounded like he didn't want to leave—vaguely like a passive child begging to stay at the playground. Nico didn't answer immediately, staring at the water bottles in his hands.

"Do you wish you could talk to them? Your friends?"

It was risky question, but Nico threw all caution to the wind. The man already knew about one of his abilities, what was another? And he couldn't tell anyone anyway.

Sirius looked back at the graves before muttering, "I never did apologize…"

Nico followed his gaze. 'James Potter' was on one and 'Lily Potter' was on another. Nico's eyes widened. Potter…Harry's parents. He sighed. He should have guessed. He stepped forward and pushed Sirius back.

"Merry Christmas, " he told Harry's godfather. Sirius just blinked in surprise about to say something when Nico opened the water bottles and poured them all over the two graves. Sirius' eyes widened.

"Hey, what are you—"

Nico shot him a silencing look. Sirius quieted down, one part of him telling him to stop Nico from littering on the graves of his dearly departed friends and the other telling him to wait and watch.

As soon as the bottles were empty, Nico threw them aside and started to chant in ancient Greek, calling forth the two souls. He'd gotten better with this over the years so this was almost nothing for him. Almost. He felt a light pressure against his head, but ignored it in favor of chanting.

Sirius, meanwhile, could only stand there in shock, not knowing what the hell was happening. Usually he'd be right up there stopping the boy, but this—this was out of his league. He hadn't the faintest clue what was going on!

He could only watch in astonished awe as the air grew colder and the atmosphere grew eerier.

Sirius started. Was this some kind of spell? But the boy wasn't a wizard! Although, he _did_ do that weird transportation thingy…And it certainly didn't look like a traditional spell! So what was it…?

Realization struck him.

A ritual!

But even with that piece of knowledge, he could only stay rooted in place as it continued. The ground shook; the air picked up—swooshing by at high speeds—and grayish-blue shades of mist started to surround the pair, shadows forming humanoid figures.

As soon as one moved forward to the graves, though, Nico waved a hand and the thing flew back. Sirius watched, transfixed and _scared_, as it all happened. What was happening? How? Why? An unending river of fear welled up in him and he had to do his best to suppress icy shivers.

This was _way_ out of his league.

Soon two humanoid shadows glided forward to the grave. This time, Nico didn't stop them. They bent down to drink the water.

As soon as the last drop was consumed, the two shadows solidified into the undeniable—_unmistakable—_features of his best friend and his wife.

Of Harry's parents, James and Lily Potter—two people who were supposed to be dead.

He gaped. He felt weak in the knees. This shouldn't be possible! _How_ was it possible? Were they really here?

Sirius wanted it to be real so much, he wanted to run to them and hug them. To talk with them once again, to laugh with them, anything! He missed them so much. It was his entire fault that they were dead.

If only he had been the Secret Keeper…If only they'd trusted Remus…

He'd even failed them when he chose to go after Peter instead of find and raise Harry—the only thing he had left of his best friend. He'd failed the two people he'd treasured above all others…loved above all others. And now here they were.

"James...Lily?" Sirius asked, wide eyed. The two shadowy figures smiled.

"Sirius…It's so nice to see you again." Lily's voice, Lily's _beautiful_ voice rang in his ears once again. A voice he thought he'd never hear again…

For a minute, Sirius forgot about his surroundings, his circumstances, everything.

Prongs was here! Lily was here! _They were truly here! _His friends who were thought to be dead.

"You're alive? How? Why didn't you come sooner? Wha—"

Their expressions saddened. Sirius didn't understand. They were alive, so why were they frowning? The Marauders were united once more! He wanted to believe it so badly, he needed to believe it— Lily shook her head sorrowfully.

"No, Sirius. We are not alive."

Sirius sank to his knees. It was a truth he'd already accepted, yes, but just when there was a chance of it being wrong, his hope was horribly crushed once again.

"Then how are you here?" he asked, looking into the dark faces of his dead friends.

Their gazes slipped to his side and they bowed their heads. Sirius followed their gazes to Nico, who was watching it all with an indifferent expression, but Sirius saw that something was bearing down on him…Something like exhaustion. Then it hit Sirius.

_ "Merry Christmas."_

He stumbled back, stunned and astonished.

"You brought them here? But how…that's impossible…"

The boy didn't answer him, instead tapping his wrist. A muggle gesture Lily had taught him.

Time…He understood.

There was only so much time he would have with his dead friends. Time he needed to make the most of.

With a newly hardened resolve, he turned to them and stood up, closing the short distance between them. He tried to hug them, tears of joy springing from his eyes, but his arms passed right through.

Ghosts; they were ghosts.

Sirius threw the thought out. No, right now they were his friends.

His friends that he thought he wouldn't see until he died himself. Determination raced within him and he looked at the two smiling ghosts. He would make the most of this chance.

No sniveling apologies.

Just three friends, like old times.

Even if he could only experience it for a single moment, it was going to be the best moment of his life.

For the first time in a decade and a half, Sirius Black smiled with true joy.

* * *

"Thank you, Nico. I don't know how you did it, but you did it. You're the best, kiddo."

The man looked rejuvenated, almost like he was ten years younger.

No longer did Nico see that haunted look in his eyes; no longer did he seem ragged and torn. He truly changed after only a single minute with his deceased friends. Nico had heard them joking around and talking about Harry.

He'd felt the welcoming air—the happy air existing between them. He could almost feel the sorrow in the air when they had to depart ways. And in the end, it seemed Sirius was just like him.

Half his loved ones were dead, and the other half were alive.

Nico looked at the man as the shadows released them into Grimmauld Place.

"You're welcome."

It felt good to say that, to hear someone thank him. As if he really belonged.

Nico stood still as the man giddily entered the kitchen, obnoxiously announcing his arrival. Nico almost smiled.

He was about to go back to his room when he heard a shout, "Nico! Get your butt in here! It's Christmas!"

He froze as Sirius' voice entered his ears. It seemed the rest of the company eating breakfast mirrored his actions. He cautiously crept forward, wanting to join them so badly and feel like he was apart of their group.

But he wouldn't really be; only Sirius was vouching for him. He stepped into to the kitchen, prepared to be turned away.

But to his surprise, he was greeted with smiles and even a hug from Mrs. Weasley who told him to sit down and eat.

She handed him a humongous plate, saying he was too thin—just like Percy's mom. Nico felt himself soar with joy; this wasn't so bad. And soon the chatter escalated to laughs—led by Sirius and the two Weasley twins.

Nico smiled with them. He laughed with them. And he talked with them. He felt like he belonged with them. And he loved the feeling.

His earlier moping was stupid; it'd kept him from _this_! In that second, that very moment, he decided he should never avoid this again. People interactions were the exact cure he needed.

"I'm Gred—"

"—and this is Forge—"

"—and we are here to—"

"—extend an invitation to our humble group—"

"—of…"

The two redheads grinned at each other, letting the moment build up.

"Pranksters!"

Nico could only grin. He was accepted indeed—he belonged.

* * *

Draco Malfoy had never felt true fear, but this—this had to be it. The Dark Lord towered above him as Draco bowed and kissed his feet. What was this about? He dared to think. What did the Dark Lord want from him? For the first time in his life, he was truly terrified.

"Draco," Lord Voldemort hissed. "I have a favor to ask…"

But Draco knew favor meant task. He almost trembled.

"You will spy on Potter and the new boy for me. I believe he is the Defense _assistant_. I expect reports every week. Are we clear?"

Draco hurriedly agreed. He was too young to die, especially on Christmas morning. The Dark Lord smirked.

"Excellent."

* * *

Dolores Jane Umbridge was having a delightful Christmas morning, drinking her tea.

That boy wasn't here and neither was Potter. She could truly relax. She wasn't completely oblivious to all of the pranks being played on her. She suspected it to be the Potter brat, her _assistant_, or the Weasley ignoramuses.

Setting a wild dog and changing her clothes to all black was horrible enough. But the latest one—locking her in a room with Albus Dumbledore (Dolores had the suspicion that he willingly participated in it)—was the worst. She had hoped with the arrival of Christmas Holiday that she would get a break.

How wrong she was.

After all, when a box came for her with Cornelius' signature on it, how was she to know it wasn't actually from the Minister himself? She didn't, so she squealed and reverently opened the box. She eagerly pushed the tissue paper out of the way, and carefully took out the contents.

But then she saw _it_.

She screamed and dropped the pair of nightwear patterned with centaurs, falling out of her chair and landing hard on the floor. Why would Cornelius send her something like this? The outfit was absolutely _repulsive_! But then she saw the note fluttering innocently to the ground.

_Merry Christmas, Dolores!_

_ ~Gred, Forge, and Creepo_

She shrieked in rage, once again.

* * *

**AN: I'm SO SORRY for such a long wait. High school is definitely not what I thought it was...Stupid stereotyping movies...But anyway, I really hope you liked this chapter, because I wasn't exactly sure about it. I think I might have jacked up Sirius' characterization...So if I did, don't be afriad to tell me. I might go back and edit it if it's that bad. Also, please tell me if there are any other mistakes. And so...PLEASE REVIEW! And thanks to all those who did!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	13. Promotion and De-promotion

Ah, hippogriffs—such wonderful creatures, yes? The trio of pranksters certainly thought so—especially since two of the creatures were doing them a favor.

"Wicked," Fred and George breathed, their eyes shining with amusement.

"How did you get them in here? Did Hagrid pitch in?"

They couldn't wipe the grins off their faces and neither could Nico.

Nico smirked and replied, "Magic."

The three laughed from their hiding place in the office, behind the pink curtains Umbridge had put up to cover the black.

They peeked through and watched with anticipation as the majestic creatures took an equally majestic dump in the toad nest. The large, brown poop was being delivered all about the office, courtesy of the two hippogriffs.

Ah, what a _great_ day for Dolores Jane Umbridge. He smirked maniacally. A _very _great day, indeed. Who knew eavesdropping on the toad would pay off!

He quickly whispered something to his partners in crime, who—after all was said—could barely hold their laughter in.

"Brilliant! Of course—"

"—we'll do it!"

* * *

Dolores Jane Umbridge was having a horrible day—no scratch that—she was having a horrible _week_!

It all started after Christmas Holiday. She had a nice, quiet week directly after that-that _infernal _Christmas prank, but now it seemed she was receiving no mercy. On Monday, she'd been attacked relentlessly by Cornish Pixies.

On Tuesday, none of the stairs would allow her entrance, only turning into a slide whenever she attempted to climb them. On Wednesday, she was attacked by a rabid dog and chased throughout the entire castle for two hours!

She huffed angrily in remembrance. And to top it all, Dumbledore had been watching the whole chase without attempting to stop it at all!

She hated this school! She hated Hogwarts! Hated whoever was pranking her!

And yesterday, she had been eating her breakfast, minding her own business, when suddenly everything seemed slightly larger than usual—the students, the bowls, the table, everything!

She had looked down at herself the minute she'd heard the first bout of laughter only to find she'd been turned into a donkey—such a horrid and disgusting creature! She had heard jeers directed at her for the entire day, even as she tried to put up another Decree outlawing pranking once again.

("Always knew she was a toad, just didn't know she was a toad _and_ an ass!")

But today—today had to be the worst. On today—her birthday might she add—her lovely, pink dress clothes had been exchanged for some sort of oversized panties and a loose strip around her bosoms.

("Look! She's sagging!")

But worst of all, she was half-naked! That was currently why she was scampering up to her office: to try to get these terrible things off of her body! She hurriedly raced into her office, slamming open the door, only to hear a _screech_ sounding in front of her!

Her own screech soon joined the creature's as soon as she saw what it was—a hippogriff of all things! And there were two of them!

_In her office._

Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she _smelled_ them—such a _horrible_ smell.

"Shoo!" she shrieked at them, her arms flailing behind her.

It made a strange sight—a woman dressed in the attire (or lack of attire, really) of a sumo wrestler waving her arms angrily at two magical, _dignified _creatures.

Suffice to say, they ignored the degrading woman.

Umbridge's face turned purple with rage and she stepped forward, prepared to manhandle them out of her office when she felt something soft and-and _gooey_ against her bare foot. The slimy substance squeezed in between her toes, causing her mouth to gag and her face to twist in disgust.

With a sense of foreboding she looked down and promptly screamed in terror, disgust—the whole nine yards.

Poop—that was what it was.

Poop all things. _On her foot! _

Her eyes literally watered in horrible disgust. This was terrible, especially with what she saw next!

The poop spelled '_Happy Birthday! Love Gred, Forge, and Creepo_'!

A banshee took hold of her vocal cords and she screamed—screamed worse than she ever had. That was it; she had to do something about this-this injustice! She, a ministry official, should not—_would not_—be treated as a barbarian!

"_Cornelius_!"

* * *

The three pranksters hiding behind the curtains could not take it any more—they burst out laughing and fell to the ground, clutching their sides.

This was hilarious! _The_ best prank they'd ever done! And it was all thanks to Nico—the evil mastermind behind the prank. But whatever brains they had in setting it up, they did not have in escaping.

Umbridge heard them through her rage and looked towards them where—sure enough—she saw the three laughing uncontrollably on the floor, the only spot without any crap on it. Her fists clenched, her teeth gritted together, and her face turned into a lovely combination of purple and red.

"Detention! _Now!"_

_Damn_, they all thought.

* * *

Since Nico wasn't a student, he couldn't exactly get detention.

So instead, he got the next best thing—or worse thing, really. He was stuck with cleaning up the room under Umbridge's watchful eye. Hmm…he didn't want her to see his abilities so how to get rid of her…what a good question. He stared at the hippogriff crap on the ground, thinking.

Then he smiled evilly.

He bent down and picked up the rusty pail and the dirty scrub brush, proceeding to rapidly scrub the office floor, sending bits of poop flying everywhere. He erected an invisible, thick shield of shadows around himself for protection, hoping that Umbridge would be hit and run away.

To his delight, that was exactly what happened. She shrieked, shouted curses at him, and darted to her bathroom faster than Nico ever thought possible.

"Have a nice shower!" Nico called after her.

Once she was out of sight, Nico called to the shadows, telling them to round up the poop and dump it out the window. The room underwent a brief period of pure darkness as the shadows followed his commands—getting rid of the crap. Barely a minute later, light beam after light beam poured through the room, clearing away the blackness and clarifying Nico's eyesight once more. He sighed and was about to leave when he saw brown spots littered amongst the stone.

_Crap._

The shadows weren't cleaning supplies no matter how much he wanted them to be and so, poop leftovers were a guarantee—a guarantee that Nico had forgotten about. Whoops… But wait…perhaps it could be a prank within a prank.

He laughed and waved his hand, sending a sheet made purely of shadows over the poop-stained floor.

_Hope Umbridge likes brown shoes, brown matches with pink, right?_

He smirked. He ordered the shadows to disperse as soon as Umbridge left her office. He knew it would cost him some energy, but most would be drawn from him when he was creating more energy—sleeping.

Though he may want to go to bed earlier tomorrow…

* * *

Nico shadow traveled into the Gryffindor Common Room to tell Fred and George of the latest development—it might cheer them up from their detention.

But then again, they were pranksters. Perhaps they didn't even need it. He edged closer to the main room as he emerged from a dark corner in the hallway, looking for two identical redheads—probably two joking, identical redheads. B

ut when he saw the unmistakable shade of red hair flash in the corner of his eyes, he did not expect to see the two heads bowed in depression. He was surprised not to see them talking and joking.

But most of all, he was wary.

What had caused the two to become so zombie-like? Could it be…no, no it couldn't be. No mere detention could upset those two. Nothing could bring their spirits down this much. But…it seemed like something had. He cautiously approached them, not knowing what to expect from this side of them.

"Detention wasn't that bad, was it?" he asked, wary and confused.

Their heads didn't even twitch. They stared straight forward into the orange, glowing fire directly in front of the couch. Nico, sensing something was wrong, stepped in front of them, pushing back the table.

"Why the heck are you two acting like zombies?" he tried again, half-joking, half-serious.

They were starting to worry him. With his brows furrowed, he stepped back and waved his hands in their faces. They barely twitched, only sending a glance to their cradled hands. Wait—cradled hands? Nico narrowed his eyes and took a closer look.

On each of their dominant hands were bleeding scratches—deep, not shallow. How did they get this? Hang on a second…Nico thought he saw letters. He looked closer until he could make out words, then a sentence.

His stare hardened. His fists clenched. And his mind screamed murder. On his two comrades hands sat the sentence, 'I must not disrespect my superiors'.

"_Umbridge_," Nico growled.

Play time was up; now it was time for war.

* * *

The next day, the two twins were slightly better.

Nico could still tell their hands hurt, however; he clenched his fists. Umbridge wasn't getting away with this. He had a nagging suspicion that this was what abuse Harry was constantly exposed to. Merely pranking Umbridge would not suffice any longer—he had to kick her out for good.

Unfortunately, he could not do that alone without raising any questions. So the question was how? How could he get the Wicked Witch of the West thrown from the castle without chance of ever coming back?

He couldn't simply drive her out if what he understood was right—that Umbridge had political backing and if Dumbledore fired her, serious consequences would arise. He frowned. So it seemed he needed to get her political backers to pull her out.

Hmm…They wouldn't do that willingly.

Her bosses or whatever were obviously trying to keep influence over Hogwarts for whatever reason. So they wouldn't pull her out if he asked nicely. So how…? He wasn't up to killing anybody either. And diplomacy was out of the question.

So what in-between was there? What would be effective?

He frowned and sighed, looking over at the twins amassing clusters of papers into a scrapbook with huge, identical grins. He watched, not necessarily paying attention until after they performed their spell.

He grinned as he saw the results and suddenly the answer to all his problems—their problems—flashed into his head.

"Hey Gred, Forge? I need a favor…A favor that will benefit everyone in the end…"

* * *

"It's a _pleasure_ to see you again, Minister," Umbridge practically purred next to Cornelius Fudge and his squadron of Aurors—Kingsley among them.

Dumbledore frowned. He hadn't been expecting the Minister of Magic for tea—the man in question had simply arrived unannounced, with his Senior Undersecretary hot on his heels.

"Cornelius," Dumbledore greeted, dipping his head blandly.

He had to try very hard to keep the ice out of his voice. This man had potentially ruined any chance the Wizarding World had at protection from Voldemort.

"Dumbledore."

The greeting continued from the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge himself.

"What brings you to Hogwarts, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked, secretly disgruntled that the Ministry thought it could overstep its boundaries this much—first with sending a spy and now with such a rude interruption.

The Ministry shouldn't even have a say in Hogwarts other than the Board.

"Well, Dolores has been telling me that her Decrees are being ignored. As High Inquisitor, her Decrees have the backing of the Ministry. So why is that?"

The man was slouched throughout his entire speech, making Dumbledore's tolerance of the man dip even further. He did not have the image of a politician; how was he even elected?

"How do you mean?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

He knew exactly what the other man meant. Umbridge stepped forward here.

"I have banned pranking as it is a blatant disrespect to distinguished Professors, such as myself. But that decree is being ignored as I have been attacked every day of this week. It is time for Ministry action," she finished with a venomous smile.

"Yes, yes," Fudge continued. "I will have Aurors stationed around the castle to make sure that the Decrees are being followed. But first I want to have a look myself."

The Minister turned around and headed out of Dumbledore's office before he could even get in a word of protest. Dumbledore sighed as the last Auror stepped out of his sight down the stairs.

"Such blatant disrespect and disregard the Ministry has these days! Overstepping their boundaries like this! In my day—"

"Yes, I know, Phineas. But instead of complaining about this, we need to remedy it."

"Yes, true…" Phineas Nigelus trailed off with a scowl on his face.

Dumbledore looked towards the exit of his office, only to find strange brown scuff marks on his stone floor.

"Curious…" he whispered, before waving his wand to clean it up.

* * *

"Yes, yes, well—I think it is time for everyone to split up. Aurors, to your stations. Dolores, I will be right behind you in a minute—yes, Weatherby, you go with Dawlish."

They were standing outside of the huge, embellished doors of the Great Hall, all of them having another destination in mind. They followed their Minister's orders—the Aurors and Percy heading off to find their stations and Umbridge climbing the steps to her office where Fudge was sure to follow.

After making sure his orders were followed, Fudge also stepped towards the stairs, but something froze him in place.

"So you're the Minister…the one that gives Umbridge her edge."

It was an icy voice that caused shivers to run down Fudge's back—so much that he didn't even notice the American accent. He turned around into the direction of the voice, only to spot a black haired teen approaching him. Fudge scolded himself.

He, the Minister of Magic, frightened by a teenage boy? Preposterous! He was just about reprimand the boy when suddenly, he wasn't there anymore. Wide-eyed, Fudge looked around frantically.

"Right here."

The voice came from in front of him. Fudge's heartbeat surged and thumped ferociously against his chest. The boy was a foot away, staring at him with an evil smile. Fudge was scared, no matter how much he didn't want to admit it. Why was he so afraid of this boy?

"You know," he started, staring Fudge down, "I don't think its Hogwarts that is the problem; it's Umbridge and her backers—_you_."

What? How dare this boy accuse him of such a thing! He glared at the boy, trying to ignore his fear, and opened his mouth—

"So if you take Umbridge and your little minions away, we won't have a problem."

He smirked.

Fudge narrowed his eyes. How important did this brat think he was to order the Minister of Magic around?

"What makes you think I'll do anything you say? You're just a little boy—"

"This."

The boy pulled out a scrapbook, smirking the entire time, and held it upright so that Fudge may read the cover.

"_Umbridge's Guide to Defense Against the Dark Arts_—"

His eyes widened. What was that? The boy smirked and opened the first page. Pictures filled it—moving pictures—of a stout, ugly figure covered in boils throwing a temper tantrum. Fudge was just about to remark how unconnected this was when he saw Umbridge's features amongst the thing.

Underneath read, 'This is the kind of person you want your children learning from?' Horror invaded his mind.

Oh no…

The next few pages were of the same thing—Umbridge throwing tantrums, Umbridge in inappropriate clothing, Umbridge stepping in poop—oh _no. _

"Oh yes," the boy said, an evil glint in his eye. "If this gets out, then you definitely won't be re-elected. Just think what the parents of these kids will think of you!"

He laughed. Fudge mentally cursed. Just _what_ was his Undersecretary doing in here?

He attempted to snatch it out of the boy's hands, but it simply vanished from the boy's grip, right before his eyes. No wand movement, no nothing. It simply _vanished._ Fudge stepped back fearfully.

Who was he dealing with here?

"If you leave and take all your cronies—including Umbridge—with you and never come back or try to interfere again, I won't send this book to every single wizard and witch the mail service will allow me to."

He brandished the book again, waving it right in front of Fudge's eyes—but the Minister of Magic made no move to get it. He'd learned his lesson. Sweat beaded across his forehead and other select places all over his body.

How could he handle this situation? How could he take control? Fudge tried to think clearly and rationally, but he couldn't. His mind was clouding up by the second.

And finally, resigned, he said, "Deal."

The boy's resulting grin was an evil one.

* * *

As soon as the Minister and Nico di Angelo had parted ways and exited the hallway to the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy stepped out from behind tall, white pillar.

His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking. What he'd seen di Angelo do couldn't be humanly possible. Heck, it wasn't even possible for wizards, especially in Hogwarts where no one but the Headmaster could Apparate!

So how did he move so fast from one place to another? How did he make that book vanish and reappear without a wand or spell or anything! Amidst all of his questions, though, Draco knew one thing.

The Dark Lord would want to hear about this.

* * *

"We will be going back to the Ministry now, Dumbledore. It seems everything is just," Fudge gulped, "fine. And I also need Dolores back as well, so she will no longer be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor—" Umbridge squawked in surprise. "—good day to you."

Then everyone belonging to the Ministry high-tailed it out of Dumbledore's office, leaving him befuddled and shocked. Well, that was easy. Why couldn't that have happened at the beginning of the year when he had a lot of aspiring professors to ask to teach Defense to the students?

But he still couldn't help but wonder why the Minister had backed out so suddenly. Had Cornelius seen something or heard something? But no, he'd just use that to his advantage.

Dumbledore sighed. He had to think about that later.

The question now was who he would get for the recently vacant position. He felt a headache coming on. Nobody would be approaching him this late in the year and the students had class the next day. He'd have to get one fast.

But he couldn't do it within less than 24 hours. So who could fill the position temporarily? All of his other professors were preoccupied with their subjects and he certainly couldn't do it. So—the realization hit him.

_Umbridge had an assistant._

Albeit that assistant was not a wizard and more of a janitor than an assistant but he was still an assistant nonetheless. It would be enough to buy him some time to find a full-time professor. Dumbledore smiled, before calling one Nico di Angelo in here.

When the boy had arrived, he had an appeased expression, one that foretold of unparalleled mischief. Dumbledore thought he may know the reason behind the Minister's sudden decision. He smiled.

"Mr. di Angelo, as you probably already know, Dolores Umbridge is no longer the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Nico snickered. How he loved blackmail!

"And so," Dumbledore continued, "we have no longer a professor for the subject. As her assistant, I would like you to be the temporary professor until I find such a replacement."

Nico stopped laughing and blinked.

"Hah?"

* * *

As Nico looked over the body of students staring at him from their desks, he couldn't help but curse the old man who'd assigned him to be the professor until he found a real one.

He wasn't even a wizard! What the Hades was he supposed to do?

He glared at all the students, making the weaker ones shake in their seats.

Damn his luck! What'd he ever do to the Fates?

He'd been doing this for several days, just letting them do whatever. For some that was talking, and for others that was sulking in the back.

But what could _he_ do? He wasn't a teacher or professor or whatever!

"Um…Professor…what are we supposed to do?" a timid fifth year sitting behind Harry asked.

Nico just stared at her dumbly. What was he supposed to say? Gah! He hated this…

"Uh…" he started. "Talk?"

Wait, no that came out as a question.

"Or perhaps…" he trailed off, looking around the room.

His gaze landed on Harry and flashes of what he'd witnessed a month ago came to mind. Nico grinned.

_Harry_ was a teacher…

"As my first and last instruction as Professor di Angelo, I appoint Harry as the new Professor. The floor's all yours!"

Silence.

_Well, they certainly weren't been expecting that_, Nico thought wryly.

He grinned and motioned to Harry, who was sitting stock-still, stunned. Just when he'd been about to move, the door slammed open and in came a handsome man with short blonde hair and a tall, lanky frame.

A huge smile was on his face as he looked the room over, the smile widening when his gaze landed on Harry.

"Hello, people! I am your new Professor—Professor Blake Snuffles!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione froze, their eyes widening.

_Snuffles? _

Nico examined the man, finding several things about him very familiar. His eyes widened.

_Sirius?_

* * *

**AN: Sorry for the longer than usual wait! I just hope this chapter was worth it! =D So how was it? Entertaining? Funny? ...Boring? ...Unrealistic? I hope not...:/ But anyway, thank all of you who reviewed last chapter, you're awesome! =D Ooh! Y'all never guess what I saw last week! O.O I saw...*drum roll* an ORANGE dog! Poor dog...I wonder how they dyed his fur orange. O_O **

**PLEASE REVIEW!**

**~Peridot15:)**


	14. Trouble Finds Him

When Draco came asking for help in sending the Dark Lord a message, Snape knew he couldn't refuse. It would seem too suspicious to the Malfoy heir—a chance Snape was unwilling to take, especially since the boy could tell his father, or worse the _Dark Lord._

And besides, this gave him a chance to glimpse some 'secret' information. He hadn't been aware that the young Malfoy was given a mission by the Dark Lord himself; Albus would like to know this, he figured.

So, after a moment's silence, Snape replied, "Where is the message?"

Draco remained silent for a moment, throwing a quick glance behind Snape. Snape raised an eyebrow, about to follow Draco's glance when the boy spoke.

"Actually, I was thinking of sending the Dark Lord a message through the Pensieve… "

Snape was slightly surprised. That was a good idea…provided the Dark Lord had a Pensieve of course—but if he didn't, the better it was for the side of Light.

Snape slowly nodded and moved sideways to allow the boy access to his Pensieve sitting on the table. Gas-like wisps swirled eerily inside the shallow stone basin riddled and inscribed with various runes and symbols, waiting for a new memory to be placed in its waters.

"I assume you know the procedure?"

Snape looked at the boy for confirmation. He nodded and pulled out his short, dark wand. He placed the tip on his right temple and briefly closed his eyes.

A gray wisp, similar to the ones in the stone bowl, followed his wand as he withdrew it, nudging it into the Pensieve where the trail turned into a cloud inside the stone container.

Snape nodded in approval and motioned for Draco to look in first, where he shortly followed. The smoke slowly morphed into the stone floor and large doors of the Great Hall—only they were just outside.

Interest piqued, Snape watched keenly as the figure of the Minister popped into view. The Minister was just about to walk up the moving stairs when suddenly the figure of Nico di Angelo appeared from the corner. Snape snapped to attention.

Nico di Angelo?

Did Draco's mission involve him? He would have thought Voldemort would have had Draco spy on Harry as he was busy with the Order—

He was forced out of his theories as he saw Nico di Angelo disappear from one corner only to reappear right in front of the Minister. He couldn't keep the shock off of his face.

That should be impossible! No one could Apparate within Hogwarts except for the Headmaster and those he'd given permission to! Now Snape was confused; had Albus given the boy permission to Apparate within Hogwarts? But then he remembered.

_Nico di Angelo wasn't a wizard._

Snape's eyes widened.

Impossible…how could he do that then, if he was not a wizard?

He had to be! And an extremely powerful one at that to bypass Hogwart's wards! But with the next action he saw the young boy perform, he was dissuaded from this notion. Even a powerful wizard would have difficultly performing a vanishing charm without a wand.

But di Angelo didn't seem to have any problem at all.

So that teleportation earlier…could it have possibly been speed? And could the other ability be one of his powers as well?

But as he watched everything else play out, he could only come up with more and more questions and no answers. Perhaps Albus would know more on this matter. He had more knowledge of magic and its manifestations than Snape did.

So Snape secretly made a copy of this memory before Draco could send it off to the Dark Lord.

* * *

Albus was amazed—amazed that one Nico di Angelo was more powerful than he'd ever imagined.

He had thought that the boy could have just been a squib skilled with weapons. But this—this proved him wrong. The only fact he knew for sure now was that the boy wasn't a wizard. Those were not magical feats as far as he could tell.

So that left the question of _what_ he was. He shivered in excitement at the unraveling mystery.

Emerging from his Pensieve, he looked at Severus and spoke, "Keep an eye on Nico. It seems our ally has more up his sleeve than we thought."

Snape nodded, in complete agreement.

* * *

"Hey, Harry…is the DA still on?"

That was their first clue that something was wrong. The second was buried deep within their minds, the third within their hearts, but they didn't want to admit it. They _couldn't_ admit it.

Sirius was their friend and, in Harry's case, godfather. So how could they tell him he wasn't being a good teacher without hurting his feelings?

Sirius was sensitive—emotion had played a huge part in his life. They couldn't just tell him that he needed to stop playing pranks and actually _teach_; it would break his heart. But still, they knew they needed to do something.

The only question was—how?

How could they get Sirius to improve without hurting his feelings? All the man really did in class was teach them spells useful for pranks, not what they really needed—not _defense._

In fact, they couldn't remember the last time they'd had homework for DADA; Ron and admittedly Harry were ecstatic about that, but Hermione was a little worried. Although, they all felt the same on one matter—Sirius needed to pull his act together.

He was a teacher now; he had a responsibility—a duty—to teach his students, to prepare them for the outside world. But the only thing he was preparing them for was to be the world's next greatest pranksters.

_A week_, Hermione, Ron, and Harry had said_—_a week and then they'd confront Sirius.

But that week had passed, and more had followed. The only thing that had changed was Snape's hair color, Snape's wardrobe, and many other Snape-related things. They did find Sirius' pranks on Snape amusing, but they wanted to actually learn how to _defend_ themselves.

Finally, one day when Sirius had allowed the class to actually _sleep_, they decided it was time—time to confront Sirius. OWL's were coming up soon and their education had already been severely impaired by Umbridge.

They needed a real teacher and they need one _now_. Sirius needed to stop playing around and get to work.

"Harry? What are you doing here? Anything you need?"

Sirius grinned at Harry as he entered the man's office. The office was decorated in Gryffindor décor, ranging from the red and gold colors to the actual lion.

But the thing that attracted Harry's attention the most was the picture with the ripped-off left side—three boys posing together, shuffling as they tried to get into a comfortable spot. And one of them looked almost exactly like Harry now—it was his _dad_.

But why was that displayed…? Shouldn't Sirius be trying to keep his true identity under wraps?

Even so, Harry immediately looked away, not wanting to sadden Sirius before he got to the real issue, but the man had already seen his glance. Harry tensed, waiting for the grief to overcome the man. But, to his surprise, it didn't. Sirius' eyes lightened a bit and a smile—a sad, but happy smile—took over his lips.

"Like what you see?" he asked, still smiling the same smile. "I was a lady-killer even back then, wasn't I?"

Despite himself, Harry snorted. Sirius beamed.

He leaned forward, the sadness forgotten, and inquired, "So whatcha need?"

Harry slightly wilted, almost gulping.

This wasn't going to be fun.

* * *

Bubbling anger lit within him like a flame, frustration fusing with his thoughts, jealousy racing like an avalanche through his body.

That power…_what was it! _

He wanted to know—needed to know—because this one memory, this one, seemingly insignificant memory could effectively throw off all of his plans.

That boy, Nico di Angelo…who was he?Or perhaps the question was_—what_ was he?

Voldemort needed to know, needed to be absolutely sure before he could set his plans in motion. But how? The answer was evading him, slipping through his grasps as elusively as an eel. How could he expose what the boy was without exposing himself?

The secrecy he had was an advantage…not to mention it made the old coot lose credibility.

He snarled, throwing out a random curse. The light flooded the dark room, shattering the Pensieve belonging to the Malfoys'.

_How_ could he even get the boy to reveal who or what he was anyway?

The boy was irritating, but powerful, and with power came knowledge; he would not tell his secrets so easily. So what to do…Voldemort scowled, analyzing the situation, going through option after option. The gears in his mind were spinning rapidly, trying to figure this riddle out.

A spell perhaps?

His eyes narrowed. No, he'd have to be within the vicinity of the boy to cast it.

A ritual?

Voldemort frowned; no, it had the same problems as using a spell. So _what_?

His magic boiled and bubbled, causing things to fly about, books to topple over the shelves, potion vials to shatter, spilling their contents all over the stone floor—his eyes widened.

He grinned evilly. Perfect…

* * *

A single word was written on the board, a spell—_expelliarmus. _

Harry's brows furrowed in confusion. But not only that—Sirius wasn't in the classroom like the rest of his students for the first time since the start of his teaching career.

_Sirius… _

Harry felt a sense of dread overwhelm him. When he had confronted the man last night, Sirius had been strangely solemn—not speaking, but not joking either. He didn't seem to be focused—he kept looking out the window rather than at Harry—but he wasn't sad.

Harry just couldn't pinpoint the emotion and that was what had him on edge.

What if he had upset the person he considered as a father-figure? The panic squeezed his stomach, queasiness threatening to overwhelm him. He took a shaky breath, steadying his nerves. He sincerely hoped he got through to Sirius rather than upsetting him.

Perhaps the spell on the board was proof of that…?

He briefly shut his eyes, closing that train of thought and waited for Sirius to enter the room.

He knew Ron and Hermione were giving him worried glances but he shrugged them off. What's done was done; he could only wait.

And, ironically enough, not a minute after he finished that thought, all hell broke loose.

Black-robed figures appeared out of nowhere at every corner of the room—including the entrance—their wands shooting jets of red light. Harry's eyes widened as he recognized the skull masks. Dread—intense dread—welled up in the bottom on his stomach.

Death Eaters—_Death Eaters_ were here in _Hogwarts_!

Fear threatened to overtake him, but as he saw a crimson light speeding towards him, he acted. He dived to the ground, forcing a frozen Ron and Hermione with him. They smacked onto the floor hard, skin against stone. His body stung, jolts of pain racing to and fro, but he ignored it, reflexively whipping out his wand.

He heard screams echoing within the classroom as his fellow students were caught in the blasts. A pang of terror and regret coursed through him and he cursed himself for freezing up, for not being able to help them.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

What if they were hurt or worse…_dead_?

No…he immediately shook that thought out of his head. He couldn't think of that right now; he needed to fight back and _fast_—but wait a minute…he froze.

How could Death Eaters get into Hogwarts anyway? And even if they could, where were the professors? Where was Dumbledore?

Surely—realization struck him.

He relaxed, remembering the spell on the board. Sirius! A joyous grin spread across his face. He'd really, _truly _pulled through!

Ecstasy and adrenaline coursing through him, Harry bolted up and yelled, "_Expelliarmus!"_

His spell thwacked a "Death Eater" right smack in the chest, sending it to the floor, unmoving. Success—the thrill of success for not only himself but Sirius pounded throughout his body. His smile only got wider.

Sirius—he'd done it!

After seeing his example, Ron and Hermione quickly caught on and began doing the same—the DA members realized as well and pretty soon, only the Slytherins' were caught in the crossfire. Harry almost laughed.

They were probably wondering why their own family members were attacking them! Harry could almost kiss Sirius for this. This was _genius!_ He knew the man had had it in him!

Finally, after all the "Death Eaters" were downed, Sirius appeared in the classroom in all his glory.

He grinned at each and every one of them, almost laughing when he saw the Slytherins' decorated in red and gold paint from head-to-toe. His lesson-within-a-prank was a success! He met Harry's eye and smiled, earning a tremendous grin back.

He'd taken what his godson had said to heart last night and began fixing his mistakes; Nico had been a big help in planning his lessons, too. The boy beamed evilly at him from the corner before vanishing into thin air.

It still amazed him how the boy did that—it was so unique and effective! That boy was so lucky!

Sirius turned his attention back to his students, knowing explanations were due.

* * *

Boredom was a scary thing.

Nico especially agreed with this. He was having a silent, excruciating battle with the fearsome thing as he strolled about the castle. Sirius didn't need his help since he was in the middle of teaching, _actual _teaching thanks to Harry and co.

Nico would have said something had they not, but he was glad he didn't have to. He had enough on his plate what with trying to figure out where to go from here.

He sighed. Umbridge had been a distraction from his real quest, but now that she was gone, he was trying to figure out how to extract the horcrux from Harry without killing him. So far, unfortunately, he'd been unsuccessful.

He shook his head, ridding himself of the thoughts. He'll figure something out soon, but in the mean time, he needed a nice, good distraction from the terrible thing that was boredom. He supposed he _could_ be trying to figure out his evil little problem, but he didn't feel like it at the moment.

So here he was, walking randomly about the castle looking for anything that caught his interest.

And something did.

Peering through the castle window, Nico spotted a moving patch of blonde and black heading toward a humongous forest. Nico grinned. The trees were absolutely _huge_! He felt a relentless urge to explore the forest and who was he to ignore it?

He quickly shadow travelled to the edge of the forest where he'd last seen movement.

The person or whoever was long gone, but he didn't need a guide. He headed into the thick underbrush, not even flinching as rays of sunlight were instantly switched with clumps of shadows.

Sticks and broken branches littered the ground, shrubs and other luscious, green plant life surrounded the trucks of the towering trees, and leaves fluttered to the ground per every rustle and shuffle. It was peaceful—the epitome of tranquility.

He wondered why more students didn't visit it.

As he headed deeper within the forest, he caught more and more glimpses of animal life. But this wasn't the usual animal life. He could have sworn he saw a _unicorn_! He walked around a patch of trees to a pint-sized clearing.

Wayward tree branches leaned dangerously over the ground and shrubs outlined the boundaries, but it was a pretty good sized strip of land.

What made it even better was that there was a group of creatures resting there.

They looked like they could be a type of Pegasus with their horse-like bodies and long, thin wings. But Nico knew they weren't. They were literally skin and bones—walking skeletons. They had reptilian faces with pure white, glittering eyes and thick, black manes running along their backs.

Overall, they had a gaunt and sinister appearance and if Nico scared easily, he probably would have been long gone.

But a familiar feeling surrounded them—attached to their very presences.

It was the feeling of death.

One of the creatures caught his eye and stared. Nico stared back, subconsciously walking towards them. He was entranced by them—entranced by how alike they were. His hand reached out and before he knew it, he was rubbing the creature's black mane.

A small smile lit his face and the creature seemed to almost preen at the attention. The others of its kind slowly approached him as well, studying him. The wings flapped lightly, their black-tipped tails swinging in response.

"The thestrals like you."

He almost jumped.

Nico swiveled around and spotted a pretty, blonde-haired girl at the edge of the clearing. He narrowed his eyes. This was probably the person he'd seen come in here earlier. Her waist-length, dirty-blonde tresses swayed gently around her black school robes, her grey eyes studying him curiously.

She reminded him of Annabeth except for the dreamy almost dotty aura surrounding her.

"Thestrals?" Nico questioned warily, keeping his eye on her.

She nodded.

"They're called thestrals; they're gentle creatures but most people avoid them…" she trailed off, tilting her head at him.

"I've seen you around. You're the DADA assistant, Nico di Angelo."

Nico nodded, eyeing her suspiciously. Why was she telling him this?

"Why don't you avoid them?"

Her grey eyes gave him a piercing stare, something he didn't expect from her.

"Why don't you?" he sent back at her.

A small, dreamy smile formed on her lips.

"Because they deserve just as much attention as any other creature."

She pulled out an apple from her pocket and tossed it in front of the thestral he was petting. The thestral slowly stepped forward, sniffed the apple, and ate it whole. Nico caught a brief glance of fangs tearing through the apple.

"Have you seen death, Nico di Angelo?"

Nico blinked…well that was a random question. He looked at her, but she was busy giving a young, tiny thestral a strip of meat.

"Yes…" he broke off, bemused. "Why?"

This time she looked up at him.

"Only those who have seen death can see thestrals."

Nico frowned. Sadness welled up within him. These creatures were avoided for their association with death…just like him. But then it hit him.

"Whose death have you seen?" he blurted out. Eyes wide, he cursed himself. That was a sensitive question—

"My mom," the girl breathed softly, her eyes downcast.

Nico winced; same as him. Though he'd seen so many more…Her grey eyes stared into his raven ones.

"And what about you?"

Nico stiffened, flashes of his fellow demigods dying echoing throughout his mind.

_Blood oozing from wounds, lifeless eyes burning into his vision, accusing him, screams ringing in his ears—_

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked—"

"No," he interrupted, "You told me yours so it's only fair if I tell you mine."

She remained silent, turning her body to look at him.

He looked at the thestrals, the pain of memories long past resurfacing—gods, he'd thought he gotten over this!

But then suddenly, a surge of comfort cycled through him. Confused, he looked around and saw a thestral staring him straight in the eye. Shocked, he stared back into white, pupil-less eyes urging him on…

"I saw my friends being slaughtered…" he replied.

A moment of awkward silence existed between the two, only the occasional caw of a bird or rustle of a bush interrupting. Nico sent a quick, considering look at the thestral. It was no longer looking at him and for a second, Nico almost thought he'd imagined it—

"I'm sorry," the girl stated softly.

Nico ignored the apology, raising his gaze to meet hers once more.

"What's your name?"

The girl smiled, that dreamy quality in her eyes flaring.

"Luna Lovegood. It's nice to meet you, Nico di Angelo."

Nico opened his mouth to reply but a sudden, high-pitched scream tore through the silent forest. Alert and alarmed, he whipped around, looking wildly for the source. The scream sounded again, more desperately—not far off at all.

Curiosity arose in Nico and he quickly headed toward the sound, knowing full well that Luna was hot on his heels.

A yell—a masculine yell—rang out, echoing around the forest, seemingly a lot closer than the scream. Nico doubled his speed, jumping over gnarled tree roots and ignoring slaps from stubborn branches. Squinting, he saw several figures—one at least _ten _feet taller than the others—up ahead in another tiny glade.

His eyes widened.

Was it a monster? But no, it couldn't be! Why would a monster attack mortals—even if they were wizards?

Unless these wizards had constantly interacted with him…his scent might have rubbed off—his stomach plummeted and he immediately called for his sword.

The long blade appeared in his hands as his legs moved faster and faster.

He was almost there…

His eyes narrowed. He wouldn't let anyone get harmed on his watch, not if he could help it. He squeezed the handle of his sword, bringing it closer to him.

He burst out onto the dirt trail, eyes hungrily taking in his surroundings—holy Zeus!

Eyes wide, he stumbled back, surprised. There was a twenty or so foot tall giant holding Harry's friend Hermione in his palm. Nico stared, tuning out the yells and shrieks. The girl looked absolutely terrified, screaming to be let down.

He faintly heard Harry echoing Hermione's requests along with another deep, heavily accented voice…but for now he only saw the giant.

_What the Hades is this thing doing here?_

The giant was vaguely humanoid, but there were large differences. His (Nico assumed it was male) head was like a volleyball on top of a tennis ball; it was huge compared to the rest of his body!

Green, curly hair surrounded a round, dirt-streaked face and muddy eyes. The giant had little to no neck with large ears sitting on the shoulders of an even larger back. He was wearing roughly patched together animal skins that were a little worse for wear, but perfect for camouflage.

If he curled up into a ball, Nico might have mistaken him for a particularly dirty stone or mound of earth.

The giant seemed to sense his gaze and angled himself to stare right at Nico. He even let Hermione go after some goading from a bearded man calling him "Grawpy".

Bemused, Nico met the giant's stare, expecting him to attack. But nothing happened. Nico waited, high on alert and sword outstretched, but he didn't attack. Nico relaxed.

Maybe he wasn't a monster…

He heard Luna walk up behind him and thought nothing of it—until the giant saw her.

He stepped towards the two, shaking the nearest trees and shrubs underneath his colossal feet, his hand reaching towards them—Nico's eyes narrowed. He raised his sword threateningly to the hand, warning it against continuing.

Unfortunately, this had an unwanted effect.

The giant's expression grew hostile and aggressive and his hand moved at a faster pace.

Nico pushed Luna to the ground. The hand soared over them, climbing back into the air. But the giant was not finished. Nico heard voices begging that "Grawpy" and he stop, but he didn't consider any of it. If this guy wanted a fight, then he'd get one.

Normally, Nico would refrain from fighting an unnecessary enemy but this giant wasn't exactly being friendly what with picking up whoever he meets.

Nico sprang up from the ground and raced to another part of the small clearing. He didn't want Luna or anyone else in the line of fire. But the giant didn't follow him. He went back to his primary goal—Luna.

"_Damn it_!" Nico cursed, dashing back over to the blonde girl.

She was just staring at the giant as he came nearer.

He cursed again and yelled to Luna, although it could be a command to Harry and his two friends as well, "_Run_!"

Thankfully, Luna snapped out of her daze and narrowly avoided the giant's hand, heading towards Harry and a shaky Hermione. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the three of them disappear into a clump of trees.

He breathed a sigh of relief. The tall man was still here trying to goad the giant into stop attacking, but Nico paid him no heed. In fact, he quickly called to the earth. A black, obsidian wall rose from the ground and blocked the man from view.

He didn't need him getting in the way—the giant was about to turn around—_crap_!

Nico barreled over to a tall, wide tree-trunk, jumped on it and pushed off the bark, hurling himself over to the giant, his sword outstretched. He flipped through the air and shoved his sword down into the giant's arm, mustering all of his strength.

This dude's skin was _tough_!

The giant roared in pain as Nico's sword managed a rather deep slash, wisps of energy curling into the weapon. The giant shook and thrashed his arm as Nico held on for dear life. But soon his grip slipped and he fell to the floor, his sword still stuck in the giant's arm.

_Damn, damn, damn!_

What could he use now? Calling for the sword may only take a second, but a second in battle could make all of the difference.

And besides, the sword should be sucking the giant's energy anyway, right?

Nico frowned as he lunged behind a tree, narrowly escaping the giant's fists.

There was something strange about the way that the giant wasn't dead yet…the sword sucked energy fairly quickly from monsters—wait, that was it! The giant wasn't a monster! So then, did that mean that these wizards had their own brand of creatures as well?

Scowling, Nico ended that train of thought.

He was in the middle of a battle where the problem was the difference in height and strength. He needed a solution and he needed one _now_; he, as his current place on the ground, could only injure the giant's feet and ankles, possibly legs.

He needed to get on higher ground…

He dove out of the way as the giant tried to step on him, his features consumed in rage. Nico grunted as he hit the ground, but quickly scrambled to his feet, eyes frantically searching for a—there! He headed toward a tree with low branches just behind the giant.

With all of his speed, he charged the tree. As soon as he was within range, he jumped and kicked off the bark, hands flying out to grab the branch.

It worked!

He used his momentum to swing on top of the branch and grabbed another and another. He flipped and swung like a monkey, only stopping until he was at eye-level with the giant. The giant, who had been looking for him, snarled as soon as he caught Nico's still figure.

His arms shot forward at a speed unrivaled but Nico had been prepared. He jumped to a higher branch, eyeing a longer, wider one just to his left.

He snatched the branch and carefully but quickly swung onto a branch further back. As soon as the giant's face was close enough, he let go of the branch, wobbling against the tree trunk.

The branch zoomed forward and slapped the giant right in the eyes. With a growl, he stumbled back in painful surprise while Nico grinned in success, maneuvering to a higher branch where he then proceeded to jump back onto the giant's arm and obtain his sword.

Only, the giant wasn't finished yet.

Just as Nico took his sword out of the giant's arm, the giant threw his arm forward. Nico's eyes widened as he was propelled off and into the trees, away from the tiny glade into the forest beyond.

Panicking, he commanded to shadows to cushion his fall. He landed in a painful heap, his head pounding. Dazed, he opened his eyes and squinted.

A horse stood over him—no, a man—no, it was both! Then he realized—a centaur!

Heart thudding wildly, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Chiron?"

* * *

Voldemort was laughing, feeling very satisfied.

An evil grin lit his snake-like features as he sat upon his throne. He had just received Intel from the Malfoy boy that Dumbledore and his cronies were busy searching for Nico di Angelo as well as Harry Potter and his friends in the Forbidden Forest—the very _large_ Forbidden Forest.

Even with Dumbledore's skills and resources, that should take at least an hour, maybe more—_just_ the amount of time he needed to set up his distraction.

The plan was set.

* * *

**AN: I am SO sorry for the long wait. I was weighed down by schoolwork, especially in last few weeks, and then I got sick. DX But enough for excuses-I really hope y'all liked this chapter! =D I kept editing it and changing it, so please let me know if I have any mistakes! And also, to make up for this long wait, I'm going to try and update within the next week. =D Thanks for all the wonderful support and reviews, you all are the best! Happy belated holidays!**

**Please leave a review,**

**~Peridot15:)**


	15. For Now Part 1

"The Headmaster requires your assistance immediately, _Professor Snuffles_. Do not dally," his favorite professor sneered.

Draco froze, his leg hovering in mid-air.

The voices weren't far away and seemed to be heading his way. He immediately pushed himself flat against the wall, heart pounding wildly—desperately hoping he managed to stay hidden.

All students had been ordered to their Common Rooms in light of Potter and his friends getting lost in the _Forbidden_ Forest. Not that Dumbledore had actually announced _which_ students but it was pretty obvious.

He smirked; _idiots_.

He was only out and about because he had snuck away to inform the Dark Lord of this development and tag the walls with these small pieces of paper covered in runic letters. He didn't take that Ancient Runes class, so that was all he could surmise—not that he cared though.

He didn't want to ask, get accused of being nosy, and be punished. So he didn't question it and did as he was told.

And surprisingly enough, he had managed not to be caught but now with two professors—even if one of them was on his side—only _feet_ away from him…

He ended that thought and remained rigid against the stone wall. He could easily escape if he needed to, right?

The dungeons were only a hallway and a staircase away, after all…

Reassured, his ears strained to listen to the ongoing conversation.

"—wouldn't dream of it, _Professor Snivellus_," Snuffles sent back.

He scowled. Draco didn't know much about the DADA professor other than his penchant for pranks on his House and _Head_ of House but he did he know didn't like the imbecile. His face twisted into a sneer.

"I have a name, Black, and you would do well to use it," the Potions' Master growled.

Draco frowned. _Black?_

Curiosity piqued, he cautiously slid across the wall to the very edge of the corner and turned his head to the sight behind him, catching a glance of his vexed godfather and—his eyes widened and he quickly scrambled out of sight.

_Sirius Black_.

Denial first rang out in his mind, but he shoved it out. He'd recognize those features anywhere—his father had made sure of it as well as the Daily Prophet that kept spouting that Black-is-a-Death-Eater propaganda.

Even a short snippet of the lustrous, shoulder-length black hair and the Black aristocratic features was enough to persuade him.

Confusion welled up within him. Why was Sirius Black here? _How_ was Sirius Black here? Wasn't Professor Snuffles talking to Professor Snape?

Draco had heard his voice…but he'd seen Sirius Black.

He stilled as the realization clicked.

Blake Snuffles…Sirius Black—same initials, same voice…same person.

And the Potions' professor obviously knew—which brought him to another thought.

Did the Dark Lord know? Did Professor Snape tell him? Should _he_ tell the Dark Lord?

Befuddled panic closed around the very edges of his mind. But what if the Dark Lord had already been told? He didn't want to give him information he already knew; Draco didn't even want to imagine the consequences. He gulped, shakily pushing off the wall and walking slowly down the dimly lit hall.

He couldn't ask Professor Snape either; he was in the middle of talking to the very reason for Draco's confusion. So should he just send a message to the Dark Lord anyway? Perhaps the Potions' professor hadn't told him yet…? But why wouldn't he?

This was useful information, right?

Or maybe not…

Draco scowled, indecision snapping at him, frustration bubbling in his stomach.

_What_ should he do?

The Dark Lord said he only wanted Draco to report information about di Angelo and Potter but what if this piece of knowledge could be helpful? Should he—his eyes widened.

The idea came to him—the _perfect_ idea that wouldn't get him in any kind of trouble.

Or at least he hoped.

* * *

"Ah, Sirius, thank you for coming immediately—"

Albus paused as he caught sight of the man, frowning.

"Why are you not in your disguise?"

He was curious, yes, but also worried. What if a student had seen him? Even if they were all supposed to be in their respective Houses, there were always stragglers.

"Ah, well…the damn thing messed up," Sirius responded sheepishly.

Albus' frown became more pronounced.

"How so?"

Sirius grimaced, raising his right arm with a bracelet. The silver band—one of Albus' many silver instruments—glinted dully within the sparse sunlight of the Forbidden Forest, but Albus wasn't paying attention to that.

The constant thrum of magic that should have been stirring around the glamour device was missing.

It was broken.

"So how do we fix it?" Sirius asked.

Severus scoffed beside him, muttering about "Black's incompetence." Sirius sent him a withering glare, about to respond when Albus sighed. Now was not the time for one of their petty _disagreements_.

"I'm afraid that we cannot. I would need the use of my other instruments in my office to get it back to working order and we must search for Mr. Potter, Ms. Granger, Ms. Lovegood, and Mr. di Angelo right now," he replied, eyes catching a faint coloring of green around the edges of the band.

_Curious. _

"Can you disguise yourself decently until then, Sirius?"

The man considered for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully before dawning a mischievous shine. Sirius grinned. He waved his wand and suddenly, there was no longer a cheerful, proud man standing to Albus' left.

Instead, a man with a permanent scowl stood slightly slouched over in completely black robes and greasy, onyx-colored hair. Albus smiled, his eyes glinting in amusement. He knew immediately who the model for the disguise was.

Said model did not look as amused—if anything he looked as if Sirius had spilled pumpkin juice in one of his potions.

"Albus," Severus hissed, turning to the Headmaster, "this is no time for _insolent_ pranks! Black needs to put on a better disguise—"

"Actually, Severus," Albus interjected, "Sirius' disguise is quite alright. I almost didn't recognize him for a second."

His blue eyes were twinkling madly. Severus scowled, glaring at both men before scoffing and looking around the forest.

With that matter settled, Albus was just about to issue the two men areas to search—they didn't have much daylight left—when a ball of bright, silver-white light burst from the tree-tops in the form of a lynx.

Albus immediately grew concerned. _Kingsley._

_ "Death Eater raids have been reported in the muggle cities of York and Manchester. Several dozen have been spotted but numbers are not a certainty as of now. Aurors are being sent in as I speak._"

Kingsley's deep baritone faded along with his Patronus, leaving the three wizards in stunned silence.

Albus' mind was whirling rapidly, wary of the ill-timed raids. This was unexpected. Tom hadn't been doing raids for a while.

Why was he acting up now? Didn't he want to remain invisible to the Wizarding World? His eyebrows knit together, trying to locate the purpose of these raids. Tom didn't do anything without reason, so what was his reason for this?

He frowned; should he send in the Order as a precaution? This was an unknown, meaning he needed to tread carefully.

Although, perhaps it was connected to—his eyes widened.

That was it—Tom's purpose.

The raids—they were a distraction, a ruse to keep the Order busy while he set about his real purpose, obtaining the prophecy. At least, that was what Albus thought Tom's purpose to be. Unfortunately, he wasn't entirely sure; the wizard hadn't made any move to procure it—

"Albus, shall we go?" Snape asked evenly. Sirius looked at him with unreadable eyes.

Albus snapped out of his theories, deciding quickly.

"No; Voldemort is trying to distract us while he goes about his true purpose—the prophecy. The Order will be guarding the Ministry building and keeping an eye out for Voldemort's next move. The Aurors can handle the raids."

Snape nodded while Sirius frowned, about to object, but Albus quickly assigned areas to the two men where he guessed Harry and his friends may have fled.

Soon after, he sent a message to Alastor and the Order to watch out for any Death Eaters near the Ministry.

He frowned; he had an ominous feeling about this.

* * *

In a large room, two figures were the only present. Inky black shadows thrived in the dimly lit space, crawling over the stone walls and the richly embellished doors directly across from the snake-like man sitting on a gilded throne.

"T-the raids have started my l-lord," stuttered his loyal servant bowing before him.

"Excellent," he hissed. The cowardly man on the floor slumped with relief.

Yes, _very_ good indeed. Albus would fall for this; he was sure—not the raids themselves but his other plan.

_How ironic_, he mused. _The raids are a distraction for the distraction_.

He smirked; his plans were infallible. No matter how great Albus Dumbledore was, even the mightiest can fall with a simple mistake.

"Now, where is Lucius, Wormtail?"

Wormtail dared not to raise his head as he replied, "H-he is coming, my l—"

Wormtail didn't even finish that sentence before the doors of the room opened, revealing a pale man with long, blonde, feminine tresses and dark-themed robes prominently displaying his high social status.

"Lucius, I presume our allies have been gathered?"

Lucius swept into the room, gracefully bowing and kissing his master's bare feet. His robes dragged across the dusty floor as he stood up once more, bowing his head in acknowledgment.

"Yes, my lord, they are on stand-by."

The Dark Lord nodded atop his throne, thoroughly satisfied.

"Then if that is all, gather half of my remaining forces to start the second phase."

But Lucius wasn't done. Wormtail, seeing he was no longer needed, melted back to his master's side, listening to the two wizards.

"My son, Draco, has notified me of some very interesting information, my lord," Lucius began.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Why wasn't he told of this _interesting information _first?

"Go on," he ordered.

Lucius nodded, a sly smile twisting his aristocratic features.

"Blake Snuffles—Hogwarts' Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—is apparently not who he seems. My son has identified him as Sirius Black."

At first, the room was very quiet, allowing for an inkling of shock to cross Voldemort's mind. But soon he was cackling as an idea blossomed.

"Go to the Ministry and leak this. Afterwards, you shall report back to me. _Dismissed!_"

* * *

"Are you certain?"

The Minister of Magic was absolutely flabbergasted.

Sirius Black?

In _Hogwarts? _

As a _professor_?

He couldn't believe this! He would not even believe it if his mother had said it—much less Lucius Malfoy!

It _couldn't _be true.

Even Albus Dumbledore wasn't as senile as to harbor in a convicted felon—his eyes gleamed.

Or was he?

He had never quite forgiven the old Headmaster as he believed the old, lying coot had sent that boy to blackmail him. He shivered as he thought of those frightening, black-as-nightmare eyes.

That boy couldn't be normal; he just couldn't!

But back to the matter at hand—he would like to exploit the old wizard but even with his many discrediting attempts, the man had a solid foothold within the Wizarding World, one that couldn't be broken as easily as Fudge wanted. But _this_—he grinned wickedly—this would surely be the man's downfall.

All that trust that Albus Dumbledore had accumulated over the years would be toppled and ruined if he could only manage to reveal this stunt to the entire Wizarding Community.

But there was still that tiny bit of doubt lingering on his thoughts.

What if this information was wrong and he went gallivanting into Hogwarts with a whole procession of Aurors only to find that Dumbledore was _not_ hiding a criminal? He paused.

And that _boy_—if the little monster could be called one—blackmailed him with that book if he tried anything like this.

Even if all trust in Albus Dumbledore would be ruined, with the release of that book, he would never see another day in office. So, no, he wasn't going to take the risk. He didn't want to chance being removed from office; it was all he had going for him now!

Still, he had to think of an excuse…

"Well," Fudge said, "I will need to, um, talk this over with the Wizengamot for our…next course of action."

Lucius frowned. Why was Fudge acting rational now of all times? He had thought the man would have been absolutely delighted—that he would be impulsive and act immediately.

Hmm…he hadn't wanted to do _that—_it was wasted on the Minister_—_but Fudge wasn't cooperating and Lucius couldn't tell him his _son_ was the source of information for the "rumor". He inwardly smirked as he discreetly removed a vial of the Compulsion Potion—Severus' very own creation.

"Yes, of course," he replied to the very uncomfortable-looking man. His eyes zeroed in on the cup in the fool's hands.

"Would you like that refilled, Minister?"

Disgust flared up in him as Fudge handed over his glass cup with a smile but he kept his face neutral. This was all part of the plan; sucking up his pureblood pride and dignity, he waved his wand and cast a rudimentary spell to refill the cup.

Just as he finished, he drawled, "Is that Dolores Umbridge over there?"

The idiot fell for the ploy and looked right—toward the huge, marble fountain in the center of the floor while Lucius poured the potion into the cup.

"I don't see her," the Minister muttered, turning back to Lucius, whom of which was smirking in success.

He watched as the cowardly man took a sip, waiting for the potion to be digested. They stood like that for another minute, until Lucius decided to test his luck.

"Minister, I must _insist_ that you take a legion of Aurors to arrest Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore for their crimes immediately."

The man looked ready to object when his eyes suddenly glazed over and he nodded. Lucius sneered as the man assembled his remaining Aurors—such a fool. He walked away to turn off the Ministry alarms and precautions before heading back to his master.

* * *

"Where _are_ they?"

Fred and George shrugged their shoulders as they watched their exasperated younger brother seethe in place. They were wondering that, too; they hadn't seen their fellow prankster anywhere.

Was he lost in the Forbidden Forest as well?

Dumbledore had only explained that people had gone missing in the Forest, not the _specific _people (odd how he said 'people' and not 'students'). But he didn't need to.

Everyone knew Harry Potter was one of those missing students since no one had seen him even before the announcement. And wherever Harry was, Ron or Hermione—sometimes both—were sure to follow. In this case, it was Hermione.

Ron had been caught up in detention—something he blamed the twins for.

But it wasn't their fault he triggered one of their pranks earlier than planned! And it _certainly_ wasn't their fault that Snape just happened to be walking by. Fred grinned, remembering the _esteemed_ Potions Master covered in green goo.

_Professor Snuffles _(cough, cough, Sirius, cough, cough) had even been there to congratulate them! Although his right arm _did_ receive some of the blast…

Glaring, Ron looked out the window. Fred and George looked at each other and nodded before appearing on both of Ron's sides—Fred on his left, George on his right.

"Bugger off!" Ron told them.

Well, _someone_ was still annoyed about the detention. The twins sniggered.

"Dear Ronnie-kins, instead of moping about—"

"—maybe you should actually _look_ for Harry and Hermione."

Ron ignored them.

"And tell us if you find Nico, too. Our group is sorely lacking without Creepo, isn't Gred?"

"Why yes it is, Forge."

Clenching his fists, Ron finally snapped.

"This is serious, you two! What if You-Know-Who got Harry and Hermione? Or worse, what if," Ron paled, "those spiders got them?"

He shuddered, but continued to look out the window. He squinted, straining to catch a glimpse of _something_ in the Forest. Fred and George grew silent in a rare moment of seriousness.

Yes, both knew this wasn't a time to be joking, but what else could they do? Joking was better than being angry—something Ron was definitely proving at the moment.

"Hey, have you guys seen Harry or Hermione?" a voice asked behind them.

They turned around and, upon seeing the long, red mane and soft, brown eyes of Ginny, shook their heads. Ginny looked towards Ron, who was still looking out the window.

"What about you, Ron?" she prompted, gliding around the fireplace and the table.

Everyone was either on the other side of the room in or their dormitories. They had relative privacy, especially with the buzzing noise of nervous chatter in the background. Ron's jaw clenched.

"No."

Ginny frowned. "Huh…last I heard, they were with Hagrid. They were looking for you too, but…" she trailed off as Ron glared at the twins.

The twins grinned.

"Oops," they chorused, not sounding sorry at all.

Confused, Ginny glanced between them asking, "What do you mean?"

Fred replied, "Well you see, we had set up a prank…"

"…but Ron came wondering by and set it off earlier than we meant…"

"And Snape was hit," they finished together, snickering.

"Oh." Ginny was unimpressed. "So…are we going to go find them?"

The twins glanced at each other, before looking over at a scowling Ron.

"We do need to look for Nico," Fred declared.

"And Ron's getting his knickers in a twist over Harry and Hermione," George continued.

_"Hey!_"

The twins laughed.

"So why not?"

Ginny beamed, excitement flourishing in her.

"But we're practically in lockdown; how are we going to sneak past the teachers?" Ron grumbled.

His siblings just stared at him.

"What!" Ron exclaimed indignantly, his ears turning red. The other three sighed.

"Do you know what pranksters are, Ron?" Ginny deadpanned. Ron looked at her as if she was crazy.

"Yes, of course! I've got two for brothers—oh." He felt incredibly stupid.

"Exactly," Ginny agreed. "And not to mention _you_ go off on so many adventures with Harry and Hermione where you _sneak past the teachers._"

Ron flushed.

"Okay, fine but aren't the teachers right outside the Common Rooms? What are we going to do? Jump through the window?" Ron snorted.

Then he froze as he saw wide-spreading grins appear on the twins' faces.

"Actually, that's a pretty good idea," Fred said, voice laced with amusement.

Ron stared at him. "Bloody hell! I wasn't being serious!"

"But we are," George responded, equally as amused as his twin.

"Wouldn't you say so, dear sister?" Fred looked at Ginny, who grinned and nodded her head.

Ron looked back and forth between the three, "You're all absolutely bonkers!"

Ginny frowned. "Well how else are we going to go find them? You _do_ want to find them, don't you Ron?"

Ron's gaze hardened and he sighed.

"Fine. Let's go. But if I die from this, I'll haunt you lot forever."

* * *

The sun was setting in the distance, the blue sky of afternoon morphing into the pinks and purples of twilight. And even though daylight still claimed the land, Hogwarts appeared dark and gloomy.

Fudge surveyed the empty castle before him and shivered. It was hauntingly silent and no students were about _at all_. He looked behind him, reassured when he saw his squadron of Aurors.

It felt eerie enough with them, just imagine if he were _alone_!

"Alright," he said, "let's move out. Look for any of the Professors or Dumbledore."

The Aurors nodded back to him and they entered the majestic castle. Dark, stone walls greeted them as they moved further, the halls still and foreboding. The moving portraits didn't even stir. Fudge shivered, but kept moving on.

If he could do this and expose that Headmaster for what he was, he'd be hailed by Wizarding World!

His resolve hardened and he sped up, walking towards the moving staircases. But they weren't moving; they were completely stagnant—as if someone had turned them off. Fudge frowned. That wasn't right. Weren't they always supposed to be moving no matter what?

His skin crawled.

Looking around and seeing nothing—that was even creepier than seeing _something_—he took a deep breath and stepped up. Nothing happened. His heart beat wildly. Maybe more than one person needed to walk up to make them start moving again?

He continued up until all of his Aurors were stationed on the stairs. He glanced up, but the staircases stayed in place. It was almost as if Hogwarts herself was taking action against him. Fear crept into the recesses of his mind, but he shoved it out and continued on.

He couldn't be thinking about such superfluous things right now! He had Sirius Black and Albus Dumbledore to arrest!

But even so, he kept his wand out with a brightly burning _Lumos_.

As they went up, they saw that the portraits were giving them beady-eyed stares. Fudge returned it; those portraits had always unnerved him anyway. They climbed several more unmoving staircases before finally spotting someone much to his relief.

A tall witch was walking the halls, wearing emerald-green robes and a black, pointy hat covering her graying black hair.

"Ah, Minerva!" Fudge beamed. "I must say this is convenient for us. Do you happen to know where Dumbledore is?"

Minerva McGonagall froze and slowly turned around, stern, green eyes staring directly into the Minister's. Surprise coursed through them momentarily—probably from seeing him unannounced. Fudge swallowed and met the witch's stare, waiting for his question to be answered.

Finally, Minerva broke the stare, narrowing her eyes suspiciously and responding, "Professor Dumbledore is out searching for some of our students in the Forbidden Forest. Might I ask why you need him, Minister?"

Fudge let loose a wicked smile.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is under arrest for the harboring of the convicted criminal, Sirius Black."

Shock overtook Minerva's body, horror pervading the old witch's features.

_Albus!_

* * *

**AN: **So not too much action this chapter, but still necessary and sorry if some of the characters were OOC; I tried.

XD Hehehe...I bet y'all were expecting the centaur scene, weren't you? Well sorry to disappoint _but_ that's next chapter. XD I needed to set up a foundation for next chapter—which I already have planned—and to add on anymore to this chapter would simply be jarring.

I could have probably left out some of these scenes to add to the mystery though... But I love dramatic irony too much for that. Also, I am new to battle strategy and very inexperienced so if you notice a flaw, please tell me.

Oh! There was not much information on some of the subjects I needed it on, such as Hogwarts and the wards as well as Ancient Runes, so I will be invoking my Fanfiction license for that. That is, unless one of you happens to know a lot about those subjects—I'd greatly appreciate it if you would inform me.

I hope this chapter met your expectations! Please review!

~Peridot15:)


	16. For Now Part 2

_Heart thudding wildly, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "Chiron?"_

Looking around, Nico cursed his stupidity. Chiron was back in camp—back in the _present. _These were centaurs, but not one of them was Chiron. Hell, just by seeing the pale, hairy chests, he knew they weren't the Party Ponies either.

Too bad, he liked the Party Ponies . . . especially their weapons.

He almost grinned in remembrance of those arrows attached with boxing gloves; those arrows were _genius_—

A twig snapped.

He narrowed his eyes, turning his attention back to the centaurs. Shadows pressed in on Nico's crouched form and before he could even blink, nocked bows fenced around him from every angle, all aiming at his head. He froze.

He was surrounded—by centaurs no less—and being threatened.

"How do you know that name?" the centaur directly in front of him growled.

He looked feral—wild—and had black hair and a black beard. He was around seven feet tall and just by seeing the respect every other centaur looked at him with, Nico knew he was the leader. Nico didn't answer which only provoked the centaurs even further.

Information was valuable and he couldn't afford to compromise his mission.

"Answer him, _human_!" another centaur to his right snarled, bow raised threateningly.

He was yellow-skinned and shorter than his leader, but had the same black hair and wild look. Nico smirked. Human, huh? He couldn't ever remember being called that before. It was either 'demigod', 'half-blood', or 'Hades spawn.' Hell, 'child of the Underworld' and 'lord' were thrown in there as well.

_Someone doesn't like humans . . . _

Good thing he wasn't entirely human—not that they knew that.

"I read it somewhere," he responded, completely emotionless.

That was plausible enough, right? He needed to get out of here and find Harry, Luna, and Hermione—

_"You lie_," an ice-cold voice spat.

_Damn. _

Nico's head jerked up and stared straight into the leader's coal-black eyes, assessing him. Well, he'd never been a good actor anyway.

"And?" he prompted. "You do not need to know—"

"You do not have control of this situation, human. Do as you are told and answer the question. Your kind is not welcome here; at least we did not kill you on sight."

Nico fell silent. The leader had him there. His gaze dropped to the forest floor below, eyes pinpointing his sword.

_I could attack, but I just came out of a fight. Do I really want to waste my energy on another useless one?_

Unfortunately, though, his question was answered immediately. Had it not been for his sharp ears, he would have a dozen arrows sticking out the side of his neck. Eyes widening in surprise, he dived to the ground, rolling uncomfortably over broken pieces of sticks.

He was sure he had more than a couple cuts and bruises—for things so small, those twigs were sharp! Cursing, he sprang up and dashed behind a tree. All was silent for a moment and Nico suddenly felt the urge to peek out.

What if they had left? As unlikely as it was—

Nico's heart stopped when a sword almost skewered his left eye; he'd pulled his head back just in time.

He jumped to the right, getting out of the sword's range, staring calculatingly at the blade-wielding centaur in front of him, raising his sword.

It was the one from before—something sharp whizzed towards him.

Nico reflexively ducked, thanking the gods for his sharp senses, and chanced a quick glance at the source. The centaurs. He cursed himself for forgetting about the bows; the leader was the only who had exchanged a bow for a sword.

Had so long without continued practice really numbed him so much or was it exhaustion?

A shining, silver longsword appeared in the corner of his eyes, slashing towards his arm in break-neck speed—he quickly brought his sword up to parry the blow. Well, that answered that; he mentally sighed. There was only one way to remedy this.

And so, the sword fight began.

The centaur had the advantage in reach and strength due to his stature, but Nico was quicker, even with those arrows constantly gunning for him. He scored a long, deep slash on the centaur's chest, causing him to roar in pain. But even that seemed only to act as a distraction.

Arrows rained down on him as he stepped out from behind the tree. His eyes widened and he lunged forward to avoid the arrows—right into the downward slash waiting for him by an enraged centaur—a slash that sliced his left arm.

He winced slightly as he felt the warm blood oozing out of the fresh wound, pain vibrating through his arm, but none he couldn't handle. He quickly sent back a strike at the centaur and rolled out of the way, narrowly missing a shower of arrows and a kick by hooves.

He pushed off the ground and darted to another tree, quickly calling to the shadows to hide him for a moment as he evaluated his enemies. He panted, frowning; they were clever, very clever. But he'd expect nothing less of Chiron's kin so he needed a strategy.

A _genius_ strategy that would completely fool all of them; they had the advantage in numbers and strength at the moment. He needed something and he needed something _big_. He needed to get rid of those arrows to keep their range limited so—his eyes widened.

_That's it!_

Stepping out of the shadows, he barely registered the sight of wary centaurs searching for him before a pack of arrows descended upon him—or rather the spot where he once stood.

A couple feet away, he summoned his energy and called to the ground beneath him, mobilizing forth a small mound of earth. And as that earth formed, his foot flew forward as he ran and kicked it with enough force to send it soaring high in the air.

Specks of dirt flew about, cloaking the air and sticking to eyes. Yells rang out within the battleground, outraged and baffled; clangs resonated and angry stomps entered the fray.

A sea of brown clouded Nico's sight, dust weaving its way into his eyes, dirt shrouding his cautious figure but he had to keep his eyes open a little bit longer, just a _tiny _bit longer to see—there!

Gone were the bows and arrows previously held in the centaurs' hands, replaced by swords. His plan had worked.

He closed his eyes and let his senses be the shadows.

* * *

McGonagall's angry voice lashed out into the night, echoing through the door and attracting the attention of most if not all of the Gryffindors, the Weasley siblings especially.

"Albus would _never_! Minister, _surely_ you are not accusing Albus of such a heinous crime? Where is your proof? Why would you dare even think that _Albus_ would do such a thing?"

The twins froze, wide-eyed.

They'd never heard McGonagall _this_ angry before, even when they'd pulled a particularly nasty prank! And what was this all about Dumbledore committing a crime? The Headmaster was the Lightest Light wizard they'd ever known, so what crime—realization clicked. The Weasley siblings paled.

_Sirius. _

But how did Fudge find out about _that_? It was supposed to be a secret! Who told him? And _how _the _bloody hell_ did that person find out? They heard Fudge speak, but could not hear his response; they were still reeling in shock.

What did this mean? Was Dumbledore going to be arrested? But Fudge didn't have any proof other than the word of his informant, right? They couldn't just throw Dumbledore in jail without a trial! They froze, ice wrapping around their hearts.

_Sirius was thrown into jail without a trial._

Oh damn. . . Ron didn't want to admit it, but he actually felt scared at this turn of events.

If Dumbledore was locked up, then the Wizarding World and Hogwarts would be completely doomed! And You-Know-Who would—he blanched, ending that trail of thought.

"—until he comes back, gather all of the students in the Great Hall, will you McGonagall? We will need to evacuate the students since Black is on the loose—"

"Black is _not_ on the loose!" McGonagall interjected, fuming. "Albus committed no such crime, Minister, so you will leave the students _out _of this and—"

"Minerva."

Everyone froze, even the eavesdroppers. That voice—it was Dumbledore! Ginny stared at the closed portrait door in horror, silently begging the Headmaster to disappear for the first time in her life.

"Ah, Dumbledore, just the man I was waiting for," Fudge's voice was smug, _too_ smug. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, you are under arrest for harboring the convicted criminal, Sirius Black. How do you plead?"

The Gryffindors were holding their breath and the younger years were sobbing but they still held hope, surely their Headmaster would deny it—

"Guilty."

Their hearts stopped._ What? _ Why was—

"—on the account that you find such a criminal within my school, of course."

The Weasley siblings sighed in relief, their hearts pounding manically. Sometimes they really hated it when Dumbledore did that—

Fudge spluttered. "What do you mean _'on the account_?' We have evidence—"

"What evidence, Cornelius?"

Silence followed and the eavesdroppers could just imagine the calm look on their Headmaster's face as he spoke to an enraged Fudge.

"Enough of this! All the evidence we need is right here in the castle—"

"What is this _evidence _then?" McGonagall interrupted shrilly. "Sirius Black! He's in the castle—"

"He is?" Dumbledore asked innocently.

The Weasley siblings almost laughed.

"Where, Cornelius?"

The Minister of Magic squawked indignantly.

"I don't know but I do know he's here! We will search!" A triumphant note accompanied his voice and the hopes of the Weasley siblings diminished.

What if they saw through Sirius' disguise? But he was out in the Forest searching for Harry and Hermione, right? And besides, Dumbledore could refuse—

"Of course. I will even have the students gather in the Great Hall to facilitate your search."

"Albus!" McGonagall gasped. "Are you really—"

"Minerva, will you lead Gryffindor?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"I—but—oh alright. . ." she stuttered before footsteps echoed over the stone ground.

The Gryffindors froze, before coming back to their senses. They scrambled back rapidly, tripping and falling over one another—the portrait door swung over, revealing a much disheveled McGonagall. She looked over them, raising her eyebrows; obviously she knew what they had been doing.

"Assuming that you all heard that," she leveled a stern gaze at them all, "follow me."

The Gryffindors immediately complied—well most of them anyway. A certain quartet, however, had realized that it was in their best interest to diverge from the professor's plan.

"Well at least we don't have to jump out the window anymore, right, Ron?" Ginny whispered, grinning at her blushing brother.

"Shut up," he mumbled, but agreed nonetheless.

Ginny looked around at the sea of her fellow Gryffindors wrestling one another to try and get out of the Common Room, searching for a certain pair of redheads.

Scrunching her eyebrows, she started to ask, "Where's Fred and—"

"_Psst_! Look to your right!"

Ginny whipped to her right only to see an empty space.

"What—"

The air shimmered and soon the heads of her wayward brothers appeared out of thin air without any body. They both grinned at her once before disappearing again. Ginny and Ron were struck with realization.

Harry's invisibility cloak! Of course and they'd move with the rest of their House before sneaking off—

"_Brilliant!_" Ginny praised, beaming.

Ron agreed and made to get under the cloak when an invisible hand stopped him.

"Nu-uh-uh, dear brother! You and our dear sister will be going under this," Fred intoned, grinning as he took off the cloak and wrapped it around their shoulders.

The two gaped at them.

"What about you two?" Ron asked, feeling an ominous sense of foreboding. . .

The two looked at each other and beamed.

"Why we're actually following our promise earlier," George declared.

Confused, Ginny looked at the twins, asking, "What do you mean? We didn't make a promise—"

Her mouth formed a silent "O" as it all clicked. Ron, however, was not at the same level just yet.

"What? What do you mean? What promise?"

Ron didn't feel any better when the two brothers gained a certain gleam in their eyes.

"Jumping out the window of course."

Ron gaped at them. "Are you bloody _mad_? You'll—"

"Ron," Ginny interrupted, "they're not actually jumping; they're flying!"

She turned to them. "Right?"

Fred and George nodded. "Right you are, Sis'!"

They then pushed Ginny and Ron towards the exit.

"Go on then! We'll see you there! Well, if Ron doesn't see any spiders and piss himself all the way back to Hogwarts."

They laughed before dashing up to the boys' dormitory, completely missing the indignant spluttering of a certain red-headed fifth-year. Ginny shook her head, smiling.

"Let's go."

* * *

_Parry. Thrust. Block. Duck._

Nico panted as he fought the centaurs. He squinted to see through the dirt-cloud, only fairing better than the centaurs due to his ability to detect their life auras.

He quickly found out that he didn't have time to use the shadows as his senses; even blinded, the centaurs were ruthless—especially the bottom halves of their bodies. He shuddered remembering that kick he'd endured. That was going to be one hell of a bruise tomorrow.

_Slash. Flip. Trip. Defend._

He cursed as he avoided a sword slash just to be cut with another on his left leg. This wasn't working. He needed to do something and _fast_. He hadn't accounted for the fact that the centaurs could fight even when blind.

They must have better senses than he. And then of course there was their numbers. After he defeated one, another came and fended him off just for that one he'd knocked down to get back up again; it was _infuriating_!

He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out as deep cut radiated hurt throughout his sword arm. He quickly fell back, redoubling his grip on his sword. He watched from behind a tree, listening to the footsteps and keeping track of the dozen life auras.

He needed a plan _now. _

He quickly jumped to the right as he felt an aura race up next to him, going through various strategies. He could use that but not in this circumstance—and that—he grinned.

_That_ he could use.

He avoided another slash, rolling underneath the centaur and jumping up behind another. He threw another strike before flipping away, calling to the shadows mid-flight. He willed the shadows to attach to his sword and harden into ropes—he called them his shadow ropes.

They worked well—devastatingly well in situations like these. He didn't know why he didn't think of it sooner. Confidence brimming in him, he began to implement his strategy.

His sword danced around the centaurs, seemingly missing the centaurs altogether and getting sloppy when really, he was weaving his shadow ropes around them. He flipped, ducked, and rolled, throwing his ropes around trees and the legs of centaurs, tripping some and whipping others.

And as he worked, he commanded the earth to form holes all around the battlefield, willing shadows to cover them up; he only had so much time before the dirt-cloud let up. To his relief and pleasure, he heard angry yells rupture the constant sound of clanging as the centaurs fell victim to his trap.

A tremendous weight eased off of his shoulders; the battle was turning tides. He sustained a few more hits, mostly from the leader, but none fatal or severe.

And finally, after some time had passed, the dirt-cloud had cleared away enough so that Nico could see the centaurs on the other side clearly without having to rely on his aura-detection.

The clearing was a mess.

Trees were uprooted, branches littered the trampled grass, and the centaurs—the majority of them were lying on the ground, panting heavily and bound by thick, black shadow ropes. The same ropes were also strewn all along the area, along trees, the ground, branches, the centaurs—they were _everywhere_.

Not only that, but some centaurs were nursing their sprained or broken legs—victims of his earthen trap. Only the leader remained standing. As he surveyed the area and his fellow fighters, what could only be described as a glint of fear and respect entered his eyes.

He looked at Nico with a stone-cold expression.

"You are not what I expected, warrior-child."

Nico raised his eyebrows; so he was a 'warrior-child' now, not a 'human?' Idly, he wondered if the centaur knew what he was but dismissed it. If that were the case, he'd be called 'demigod.'

"You have my respect," he continued, leveling a curious gaze at Nico.

Nico didn't dare move, hoping that the battle was over. He was dead on his feet—wasn't sure if he could last another minute. He was pretty sure the centaur didn't know that though; he'd gone through too much conditioning to show how poor his state was outwardly.

"However, you are a threat and threats must be eliminated."

Nico tensed, gripping his sword more tightly. The centaur caught the action and his eyes rested on his blade.

"You are a curious being, warrior-child. You are not a wizard; wizards do not physically fight nor do they have any abilities like the ones you have shown."

Nico narrowed his eyes and immediately sent away the floating shadow ropes attached to the end of his sword. They worked better in situations where he was outnumbered anyway.

"And no humans know of Chiron—at least not as intimately as you seem to. What are you?"

* * *

"Harry! Hermione! Er . . . what's your name? . . . Luna!"

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the three trekking ahead of a disgruntled Hagrid. "We finally found you!"

Snape scoffed beside him. "No, we did not find them. We found _Hagrid_ who found them."

Sirius ignored him and dashed over to check the three for injuries, which he found none, much to his pleasure. Then he stilled. A fearful glint passed through his eyes.

"Where's Nico?"

Meanwhile, the three—including Hagrid—were wondering who the older Snape look-alike was. Since when did Snape have family?

"Um . . . Who are you?" Harry finally voiced, looking at the oddly concerned man.

Why was he concerned? He didn't even know Harry! Or Hermione! Or Luna!

Well at least he thought so . . .

The unknown man looked hurt.

His eyebrows scrunched together and a whisper blew past his lips, "What are you talking about . . .?"

His voice deepened as it grew louder. "Don't you recognize me? I'm—"

"Snuffles!" Snape interrupted warningly.

Realization passed through the group's eyes.

_Sirius? _Harry thought. _Why is he looking like that?_

"Si—Professor Snuffles? Why do you look like that?"

Sirius froze.

Crap . . . He had no answer to that.

He'd forgotten all about his disguise. Now if it was just Harry and Hermione, he wouldn't need a reason for his disguise. But Luna was here. So what could he say?

Well . . . he looked like Snape—realization dawned on him. He grinned.

Who knew this disguise would come in handy after all? A mischievous glint entered his eyes. He was going to milk it for all it was worth! He took a deep, dramatic breath and looked at the group.

"If you must know—you four can't tell anyone about this! Not even you, Hagrid—I am . . . Sniv—Severus' cousin from his mother's side."

Snape almost spluttered; the expression on his face was priceless! Sirius, Harry, and even Hermione had to bite their cheeks to keep themselves from bursting out laughing. Sirius was having the most trouble; this was just too good!

They all looked towards Luna to see if she bought it. The same dreamy expression she wore on a daily basis was still on her face—the only difference was that her eyes were slightly more bug-eyed than usual. She looked between a red-faced Sirius and a sour-looking Snape.

"Oh yes," she said, "I can see the family resemblance."

That was when Harry and Sirius lost it. They dropped to the floor, howling like a pack of dogs.

Snape wasn't pleased. He looked at the blond girl (who was staring curiously at the two laughing on the ground) and glared at her, before turning his attention to the two troublemakers. His lip curled upward.

"If you two are done making fools out of yourselves, I suggest we be on our way up to the castle—"

That was when the clearing was flooded with a bright burst of light in a shape that Snape recognized entirely too well. It was the Patronus of Albus Dumbledore.

_"Severus, you are needed back at the castle."_

* * *

"The Ministry has been secured, my lord."

Satisfaction rushed through his mind. He smiled evilly.

"_Good_. Be ready for my signal."

"Yes, my lord."

Lucius swept out of the room to go back to the Ministry—the fallen Ministry.

Voldemort was extremely pleased. His invasion plans were coming along nicely. His distraction—the raid—had worked perfectly well, taking a good chunk out of the available Aurors in the Ministry and they were, if the report was true, trapped in anti-Apparition wards as they fought for their lives.

On the other hand, young Draco had placed the runes in Hogwarts, prolonging and spreading the wards allowing Apparition within Hogwarts.

It was a perfect time—Dumbledore had been distracted and had forgotten to reestablish the anti-Apparition wards within the Great Hall, where the sixth years had been practicing to gain their licenses.

The Ministry had also been successfully seized after Lucius had taken down the wards and protections. His Death Eaters had taken over quickly and quietly—especially with the less-than-usual amount of Aurors there and the Minister's absence.

Now all he needed was to gather his forces and invade Hogwarts. A chilling smirk appeared on his face.

A few months ago, it would have been the Ministry he would have been invading—all for a single prophecy.

But Voldemort had since then realized that the prophecy was of no importance to him. He knew all it had to offer and with the arrival of the boy, Nico di Angelo, he had reevaluated its promise.

If the boy could tempt fate without even being in the prophecy, then it was obvious other things could as well.

_No, _he thought wickedly, _the prophecy is no longer necessary. _He laughed.

_L__et the invasion begin. _

* * *

_What are you?_

The question rang again and again within his mind. Nico just stared, shocked, at the centaur.

_How did he know?_

He clenched his sword hilt tighter than before, eyes narrowing at the somewhat calm centaur. Adrenaline raced through his system; his heart beat erratically.

"I'm human," he replied, trying to keep his voice even.

The centaur glanced at him with disbelieving eyes.

"No mere human could do _this_," he motioned to the carnage around them.

"A wizard would be able to," Nico shot back, instincts screaming at him to run before he was revealed.

But his legs wouldn't move; he was too exhausted. He needed this rest—even if it was only a little.

"No—even with their wands, wizards do not have domain over shadows. You do. What are you?"

But before Nico could respond, another centaur stepped out from behind a thick tree, more elegant and graceful than his brothers. His hair was a whitish blonde—both on his back and chest. He had blue eyes—astonishing blue eyes that looked like they could see straight through Nico's soul.

They reminded him uncannily of Chiron. The centaur was tall, as tall as the leader, and held himself with posture and confidence—he _radiated_ wisdom.

In that moment, Nico knew this centaur knew—knew who he was. He didn't feel any calmer by the knowledge.

In fact . . . _Why didn't I sense him before? _

Nico quickly glanced around and counted . . . eleven centaurs. His eyes widened. He hadn't even noticed that the twelfth life aura he'd felt hadn't been fighting!

_"Firenze_!" the leader growled, dark eyes blazing. "Where were you when your brothers were attacked? Why did you not fight as well? You are a _disgrace_—"

"Peace, Bane. I fought not because this fight was unnecessary—"

"That does not excuse your transgression! We are kin; we fight for each other, help each other—"

"And that is what I am doing right now," the centaur Firenze stared hard at his leader—Bane as Nico heard he was called.

Bane narrowed his eyes, raising his sword.

"And how are you doing that?"

Firenze looked at the still tense Nico and bowed deeply, eyes showing great respect. Nico was wary; this centaur _definitely_ knew who—what—he was. He hoped the centaur did not reveal it. He was uncomfortable with strangers knowing so much about him.

But then again . . . perhaps he'd gotten over that?

"By stopping you from attacking one of Chiron's trained."

_Damn, _Nico thought_. Cat's out of the bag_. _Or will be. _

Despite this though, he didn't say anything. Maybe it was better this way. It could mean allies. Bane froze; his eyes widened astronomically, shock overtaking the expression on his face.

"You mean to say—"

"Indeed."

Bane suddenly looked at Nico in a new light—almost in wonder. He bowed even deeper than Firenze.

"I humbly apologize, demigod. I knew not who you were. Please forgive me and let us have peace."

So many months of keeping his identity under wraps and it suddenly came crashing to the surface with only a few words. It was a bit disturbing how _easy_ it was. He mentally sighed and shoved away the apprehension he felt; what's done was done. He needed to just go along with it—appear calm and collected.

So he nodded back to the centaur and intoned, "I forgive you."

With this, he was sure he could persuade the centaurs into keeping his secret.

"But you will not tell anyone about me. Right?"

Nico was mentally and physically exhausted; he could not, under the circumstances, think of any way to sugar-coat it.

If only he could rest . . .

"Of course. You have—"

But Bane never finished that sentence because two red, flying blurs crashed into the clearing. Nico's eyes widened.

_Crap . . ._ _How am I going to explain this to them?_

* * *

"Damn it, Snape! If _you_ go, I need to as well—"

_"No_. The Headmaster only requested _my_ presence—"

"But he didn't say I _wasn't_ needed—"

"He didn't say you _were_ needed either. _Stay_, Snuffles. That should be something a mutt like you can do well—"

Sirius growled in outrage, trying to stop himself from tackling the git.

_Damn it! _Dumbledore said "immediately" so why the _hell_ were they still arguing? They needed to go _now_! It was a damn emergency!

_Why the_ _bloody hell_ was Snape being a bloody git _now_ of all times?

"Both o' yer need ta stop arguin' and get ter the castle _now_!" Hagrid's booming voice interrupted, halting their argument.

Sirius smirked at Snape. "See? Now let's go—"

_"No_. The Headmaster said—"

_"Fer everyone's sake, jus' go_! Both of yer! Now! _Go on_!"

Hagrid was visibly upset and disgruntled, hair matted and eyes squinting. Snape tried to open his mouth to protest once more, but Hagrid had had enough. Grawpy might die and he couldn't do anything about it right now 'cause he had to look after the kids! His eyes felt like they were about to tear up.

So Hagrid _shooed_ them off with a string of words that could make a sailor blush—both of them, to the amazement of Harry, Hermione, and Luna who'd never seen Hagrid so angry and upset.

Once the two were gone, silence befell the group once more. Harry felt tremendously uneasy, but he knew he had to ask Hagrid what was wrong. He'd never seen the man so—so _conflicted_.

"Er . . . Hagrid? Are you . . . alright?"

But instead of an answer with words, his friend's face darkened and his eyes watered.

"Hagrid! What's wrong?" Hermione asked, concerned.

She moved closer to him, awkwardly at first, but as Hagrid let loose a sob, she began rubbing his arm in a comforting gesture.

"It's Grawpy! Sometin's wrong wit' him!"

_I'm sure there is . . . _Harry silently commented, remembering that huge, deadly sword Nico wielded. If anything, he was curious as to how the boy faired against the giant. Here was his answer. It made him wonder how powerful Nico was. First he killed a couple of _dementors_ and now he defeated a _giant_—

"Wha-what happened?" Hermione stammered.

Hagrid's voice trembled as he replied, "He's on the ground and . . . he won' get up!"

"Was he breathing?"

Surprisingly, Luna asked the question. Hagrid didn't seem to notice. Harry really wasn't sure what to think about the blonde girl's presence. He really didn't know her that well—

"Well . . . I think so—"

"Then at least he's still alive," the blonde girl continued in her smooth, melodic voice.

"That's true . . . but . . ."

"Would it make you feel better if you went to check up on him?" Hermione questioned, sounding unsure. After all, Grawp was the reason they were all in this mess.

Hagrid paused and stared at them incredulously. "Really? Yeh'd do tha' fer me?"

They all nodded. He gave them a watery smile.

"Thanks yeh guys but . . . I have ter get yeh back ter the castle."

He stood up, his smile traded with another frown. As he did, an idea came to Harry but . . . he was hesitant to offer.

He didn't know his way around the forest like Hagrid did but . . . Grawp was the man's _brother_. How would he feel if he switched positions with his friend except Grawp was _Sirius_? Or Ron? Or Hermione? He swallowed and ended that train of thought.

Hagrid needed this.

"Hagrid," he started tentatively, "why don't you go back to Grawp? We can get back to the castle on our own."

He looked at Hermione who looked unsure and Luna, who—even though she didn't know him well—nodded.

Hagrid mirrored Hermione's expression. "But I have ter take yeh back ter the castle! What if yeh get lost o'—"

"We know the way, Hagrid. Don't worry about us; just go make sure Grawp is alright."

Hermione sent him an incredulous glance and Harry couldn't blame her.

This was extremely reckless of him but well . . . This was for Hagrid. Hagrid looked back and forth between the three before he beamed.

"Thank yeh, Harry, Hermione, Luna! Thank yeh so much—"

_"Go_, Hagrid! You can thank us later!" Harry quickly added.

Hagrid nodded and, with one last "thank-you", disappeared around the trees, leaving the trio alone with the night looming steadily over them. Hermione looked at him, her expression terrified. Luna was neutral.

_"'We know the way_?'" Hermione repeated, her voice tiny and high-pitched.

Harry grimaced. "Well—"

He never finished that thought because two people shimmered into existence right behind Hermione—two people he was both relieved and horrified to see.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore was having an awful evening.

First, he had to travel to the Forbidden forest to find his students and now Sirius had been found out through what he suspected was a certain blonde spy. He sighed; he should not have underestimated the young Malfoy because now he was on the brink of being arrested.

It was a miracle he was still sane at the moment.

Not only that but he was unofficially being kept on lockdown along with his students in the Great Hall as the Aurors looked for Sirius—that was the only assurance he had, that they would never find Sirius because he was still searching in the Forbidden Forest for—

The doors opened and in stepped Severus and—

Sirius.

Dread pooled in Albus' mind. So much for that thought. His mind began to whir furiously, searching for solutions.

Perhaps he could turn this to his advantage. Obviously, the Aurors wouldn't find Sirius if he was right here. He wiped the frown off of his face and replaced it with a somewhat strained smile. Though he was curious—how was he going to explain Sirius' appearance, or rather his disguise's appearance?

Especially since Cornelius was right there . . .

"Ah, Severus, have you found the missing students yet?" he asked in a gentle tone.

Severus looked at him and nodded. "Hagrid is currently leading them back to safety." Albus beamed.

"Excellent."

That was one thing he no longer had to worry about. Sirius was hovering around the door, probably just now realizing how severe the situation was—and why he hadn't called for the man.

Although Albus had not told them the details over his Patronus, he was sure the two had figured it out—especially since Cornelius Fudge was staring at the room's newest additions with a nasty gleam in his eye. Most of his attention was directed towards Sirius.

Albus wondered if he would need to resort to breathing exercises to calm his old heart after all of this played out.

"Dumbledore, who is _this_?" the Minister asked with a wicked expression.

Sirius tensed. Albus forced a calm smile onto his face.

"Minister, this is Severus Snape. Have you already forgotten—"

_"No_, no, no!" Fudge interrupted. "The other one."

Mutterings began to resound around the Great Hall as the students watched with avid interest.

Paying the whispers no heed, Albus opened his mouth—

"How do you do, Minister?"

Sirius paused for a second, slightly hesitant and slightly giddy over what he was about to do; he had a plan!

He just hoped Luna knew how to keep her mouth shut . . .

He slung an arm around a certain scowling Potions' Master, thanking the lord that he had unintentionally thought of a disguise earlier.

He was beginning to realize he should have stayed with the kids . . .

But oh well, this was going be fun . . . if he wasn't caught.

"I'm a relative of Ol' Sevy right here."

The statement was met with absolute silence, even a certain Headmaster was a bit shocked over what disguise Sirius had decided to use. But then he smiled. If he knew the prankster, and he did, Sirius was going to have the whole Hall laughing in a few.

He wasn't going to judge the Animagus' action either; it had certainly saved them for now.

Looking at Cornelius, he saw the man looked equally stunned if not with a hint of skepticism. He hoped he didn't ask for—

"A relative? There is certainly a resemblance," the Minister admitted grumpily while Sirius felt relief swirl through his mind, "but looks can be deceiving."

Sirius' stomach plummeted as the Minister looked entirely too smug. He knew, didn't he?

"We are taking any and all precautions when it comes to finding Sirius Black. So can you show veritable identification or proof in any way that you are family with this man? And if so, why have you been allowed into Hogwarts?"

That sounded strangely professional.

Sirius blinked in shock; Fudge didn't know!

Damn, he thought it was obvious . . .

This man truly was stupider than his reputation. But still, he needed proof. And then he needed a reason to be here.

Proof first though . . .

He silently cursed . . . How was he going to do that?

_Uh . . . hmmm . . . Let's see . . ._

Sirius groped around for ideas, his eyes searching around the room when he saw a stray portrait—he smiled. _A_

_h, memories_.

"Well do memories count? 'Cause I've got loads of little Sev'."

He looked like an old man, why not play the part? He grinned as if in fond remembrance.

"Why I remember when he let loose his first bout of accidental magic—set his own ass on fire!"

Shocked silence stilled the hall. Most students were gaping but Sirius heard a few scatterings of laughter around the room, mostly from the right side of the hall—Gryffindor. Risking a glance at Snape from the corner of his eye, he saw the man was beet-red—probably from anger though, not embarrassment.

"Language!" McGonagall reprimanded sharply, although she sounded like she was trying to hold back a laugh as well.

Dumbledore was smiling. Fudge, however, looked less than pleased. But he hadn't said anything so far so Sirius went on. Oh revenge was sweet—or shall he say pranking?

"There's also that time when he rode his first broom. He was a little fattie back then though so the broom protested a bit—we didn't pay it any mind of course until after he fell off and landed in a field of horse manure. But the little bugger liked how it made his hair feel—probably why he wears black and keeps his hair greasy—"

"Alright, alright thank you, Mr. . .?"

Fudge sounded like he had a hard time keeping his composure. The Hall had since then erupted in laughter—even from the Potions' Master's own house!

Ah it was beautiful, just beautiful!

Sirius looked at the Headmaster and McGonagall who was standing nearby. They were both chuckling at least—Albus had his signature twinkle.

"Excuse me, Mr. . . .?"

Sirius snapped out of his reverie, frantically searching for a name. Snape's mother's name was Prince wasn't it?

Damn . . . if only he'd listened to James' rants some more.

"Oh, uh . . . the name's Prince—"

Gah, he needed a first name! His eyes roamed over the room and he blurted out the name of the first person he laid eyes on—

"Severus Prince."

—which happened to be Snape.

Silence.

Everyone looked at him skeptically, even Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. Sirius sweated.

What! It was the best he could come up with under short notice!

And besides, he was sure if anything went wrong, Dumbledore would be able to cover for him.

Right?

Snape sent Sirius a glare that probably promised pain later. But Sirius ignored it. He could beat the slimy git any day. Fudge was about to open his big, fat mouth when—

"Minister, you need to see this!"

* * *

"Fred? George? What—"

"Creepo! It's you!" came Fred's voice. "We were getting worried when you didn't come back! Come out here to take a nap with the spiders, did you?"

George grinned as he sprang off his broom, next to his brother.

Nico just stared at them. These two were joking in the middle of a _battlefield_! Didn't they see the centaurs? Maybe not . . . Was that a good thing?

"Bloody hell! Look Fred! Centaurs and they're all—"

He broke off, probably about to say "dead." The twins looked at Nico, fear glistening in their eyes as they saw his sword, his blood-rimmed sword. He hadn't had the chance to clean it off yet. Nico frowned.

The centaurs weren't even dead! What were these two getting at? Better yet what were they doing here?

Nico couldn't help but think it better if they had stayed up at the castle. This was _his_ business and his alone. He hadn't even heard if the centaurs were going to keep his secret yet!

He was _very_ tempted to knock the twins out right now . . .

"Hey, watch out! There's still some left!"

Nico cursed as the two caught sight of a very wary Bane and a . . . something Firenze. He couldn't tell what the other centaur's emotion was—something between neutral and thoughtful.

_"Stupefy!_"

Eyes widening, Nico's legs moved of their own accord. He didn't know why, he didn't know how. He just moved and stepped in front of the red beam of light before it could hit the centaurs. His legs protested terribly, but raced to intercept the spell regardless of their previous fatigue.

Maybe if he hit it with his sword—a deep, shattering impact blasted into his chest and he fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

_"Ron_? _Ginny_? What the _hell _are you two doing here?" Harry couldn't help but blurt out.

Hermione didn't even comment on his language, she was just as shocked, and if Luna was stunned, she didn't show it. Her Nargles or whatever probably told her.

"Coming to help you, of course! Right, Ron?"

Ginny elbowed her brother, who yelped and nodded. His face looked sheet-white for some strange reason—Hermione blew up. Harry didn't know what put her over the edge but she started mercilessly chiding the duo.

"Do you have _any_ idea how dangerous it was coming to help us? You could have gotten lost and no one would have ever found you—"

"You got lost," Ginny deadpanned. Hermione ignored her.

"—you could have been killed—"

"You almost were, Hermione," Harry pointed out.

Hermione stopped, fuming. "Fine! Don't listen to what I have to say! But don't say I didn't warn you!"

"The warning is a bit late though, isn't it?" Luna asked innocently.

Hermione sent a glower at her before turning her attention back to the newcomers.

"Why couldn't you have waited for the teachers to bring us back?"

Ginny stared at her incredulously. "Would you have waited if it'd been Harry lost while you were standing around doing nothing? Or Ron?"

"Well—"

Hermione wavered, frowning. Harry sighed; this argument was useless and Hermione knew it—_he_ knew it. What was really important was if these two knew what was happening at the castle for Snape to be called back—his eyes widened.

"What's happening at the castle? Snape got called and Sirius went with him—" The two Weasleys' paled.

_"What_?" Harry demanded, suddenly worried, _very_ worried.

"It's Fudge," Ron said shakily. "Somehow he found out about Sirius."

Harry just stood there, staring at Ron for a few seconds—his ears couldn't process what Ron said. Had he heard correctly? Fudge knew—? But how? How the hell would he have found out? How would anyone have found out?

Sirius was so well hidden—then he remembered those pictures in Sirius' office. His heart pounded frantically in his ears, dread circling through his veins. Was that how Sirius was found out? Harry opened his mouth to ask more but something caught the group's attention.

_"Stupefy!"_

* * *

Fred and George stared in horror as the red beam hit Nico instead of the centaurs.

What was Nico thinking! The centaurs were the enemies weren't they? Nico'd even beaten some of them—Fred refused to think "kill" because he wasn't sure and it just plain frightened him that Nico would kill anything.

Sure he'd seen that huge, nightmarish sword but it was for _defending_, right? Fred was afraid to hear the answer. But even so, Nico was _against_ the centaurs' right? So in all fairness, he should have approved of their actions. He wasn't supposed to jump in front of a shot for his enemies!

"Fred! Why did—"

"Shut up, George! It wasn't as if I was _expecting_ Nico to do that! He wasn't supposed to—I didn't—"

Hysteria tacked onto his voice. It wasn't his fault was it? He didn't mean to!

"You—you _dare_ do that—"

"Bane! They meant not—"

A white-haired centaur slapped a hand on Bane's shoulder, but the enraged centaur shrugged it off, raising his sword and stepping closing to the twins. The twins froze as they looked into his eyes. It was like staring into a raging inferno. Fear crawled along the edges of their minds.

"_Silence, Firenze!_ They dare to disrespect Chiron's tr—"

"It was for us—"

"—ained! Such human insolence!" he snarled, lunging forth to attack them—the twins couldn't move, rooted to their places, frozen by fear—Firenze held him back. His eyes flashed.

_"No_! These are his friends! What would he say if you killed them?"

Fred and George finally found their wits as the two centaurs argued, backing up slowly. They weren't sure what to do. Should they run? Should they try to help Nico? Or were those two centaurs trying to do that? But they were supposed to be enemies right?

Frustration and helplessness threaded through their minds; it was all so _confusing_—

"Fred? George?" gasped a very familiar voice.

They two whipped around in disbelief—no, it couldn't be—they wouldn't be here—

But they were.

Harry was the one who had spoken, the others were in mild states of disbelief—same as the twins. How had they been so close to each other and not noticed?

Wait a minute . . . had they seen what had happened with Nico then?

"What—what's going on here?"

Oh wouldn't they all like to know. Idly, Fred realized that the centaurs had stopped arguing. Peeking back, they were staring at the clearing's newest additions.

"Wait—is that . . . _Nico_?" Hermione gasped, horrified as she looked at the unconscious boy.

"What happened to him? And . . ."

She looked at the clearing a little closer and noticed—

"Oh my—what happened to all the centaurs?"

Confusion spiraled back and forth between the two groups, each only asking questions and not answering. In fact, the people that could be answering were unconscious or—Fred's eyes widened—the centaurs . . .

He was just about to ask when Hermione jogged forth, racing past the two towards—Fred turned around—Nico.

"Why didn't you help him get up, you idiots?" she screamed at them, clearly frustrated and confused.

Anger flashed over Fred's face.

"Who are you calling an idiot? You're the one who got lost in the _Forbidden _Forest!" Fred snarled back.

Damn it! He didn't mean to shoot that spell—why was everyone blaming him? Hermione turned to him, fiery-hot fury smoldering in her chocolate brown orbs.

"I didn't do it on _purpose_—"

"Exactly! And neither did I! Stop being such a damn _hypocrite_—" Hermione gasped.

_"What_ did—"

_"Silence!" _

A roar came from their left—a terrifying, outraged roar. It was a Bane—with a long, bloody sword. They stiffened.

"This solves nothing! Arguing is such a petty, human thing to do—"

"Then why were you arguing with your buddy next to you a few minutes ago?" George mustered the courage to say. The centaur glared at him.

"You _dare_—"

"Quiet, all of you."

Even spoken calmly and softly, those words silenced the entire clearing.

"A man lives by doing something—not by debating and arguing about many things."

Bane resisted the urge to say that they were not _men_, knowing it would not help to diffuse the situation while the others stared at the wise centaur in shock. Said centaur smiled.

"Now, I believe young Nico needs help as well as my fellow brethren. You have healing spells, yes?"

At first, no one spoke, but Luna suddenly stepped forward and breathed, "Yes, I know a few."

Firenze nodded at her and said, "Please help them then."

Luna continued to walk forward, past the twins and Hermione, before kneeling down beside Nico. She muttered a few spells, cleansing the boy of dried blood and healing his cuts.

Hermione soon caught the drift and stepped forward but Luna held her off, insisting, "Nico is fine now. Let's help the centaurs."

Hermione hesitated at first as she looked at the injured centaurs—some passed out, others watching everything like cornered animals—but she gave in and followed Luna's lead. They were injured no matter how dangerous they were.

She couldn't just turn her nose up at someone hurt!

After they'd healed most of the injuries on the centaurs (even the leader Bane was treated, although he was very wary throughout the entire five-second procedure) and disentangled them from the weird black ropes, (Hermione nor anyone else had any idea what they were or where they'd come from; the centaurs wouldn't say anything on it) Hermione approached Nico's prone form and whispered, _"Ennervate."_

The spell rushed over Nico and a few seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

Was there a mistake—? Nico suddenly sprang up, whipping his sword in front of him at the speed of lightning, inches in front of Hermione's face.

She shrieked and backed away, tripping over the healed body of a centaur and careening towards the ground. She landed with a painful yelp. Nico grimaced and immediately moved to help her up.

"Sorry," he apologized, extending his hand—wait.

He blinked staring around the clearing. When did Harry, Hermione, Luna and—was that Ron and his sister? When did they get here? What happened—oh the spell.

He cursed. He had such bad luck. He quickly pulled Hermione up, expecting some kind of fatigue to rear its ugly head at him but—he froze.

There was none.

He felt completely . . . renewed. How the Hades did that happen? He could've sworn he was totally exhausted—

"Um . . . Nico? Are you alright?"

Nico snapped out of his thoughts and looked over at the concerned, but slightly scared girl. He slowly nodded, and lowered his sword when he saw her fearful gaze on it.

"Yeah but . . . did you use some kind of an energy-restoring spell on me?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Well kind of . . . _Ennervate_ is used to wake up people hit by the Stunning Spell. But are you sure you're alright? Because well . . . Luna healed most of your injuries but . . . "

Surprise flitted across Nico's features. Luna'd healed him? Nico looked down at his arm. Sure enough, the layer of dried blood and the cut itself was gone. He saw the same for his other injuries. Gratitude welled up in him and he found the need to thank the blonde girl.

He looked back up, eyes searching for Luna. He found her with an odd expression on her face as she stared at him.

Nico ignored it and told her, "Thank you." She smiled at him.

"You're welcome—"

A scream broke her off, tearing through Nico's eardrums. He swiveled around to see Harry clutching his forehead painfully, mumbling something over and over again. Nico felt a dark presence emanating from it and immediately identified it as the horcrux.

Could he take care of it now? Or—But before he could finish that thought, Harry stood back up panting and looked at everyone with haunted emerald eyes. Fear flashed through, dread following shortly. Nico felt apprehensive.

What had happened . . .?

"Voldemort," Harry whispered. "Voldemort's here. At Hogwarts."

* * *

**AN: **Eheheheheh... Sorry about the really long wait, but this super long chapter makes up for it, right? Right? 'Cause it's 25 pages... Well anyway, what'd you guys think? Too OOC? Too emotional? Too much humor? Please review and tell me what you think! And also, thanks to all those who reviewed last chapter even though it was kind of . . . ******.

~Peridot15:)


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